THE BLACK NAPOLEON

THE STORY OF TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE

BY PERCY WAXMAN

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY

NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1931, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC,

Second printing, March, 1931

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

Designed by Robert S. Josephy

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY QUINN & BODEN COMPANY, INC., RAHWAY, N. J.

Table of Contents

PRELUDE

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

EPILOGUE

BIBLIOGRAPHY

NOTES

Reviews

"Intensely readable. . . . Mr. Waxman, in swift, dramatic strokes, has given us a glorified picture . . . he has missed no essential in Louverture's thrilling and dramatic story . . . he presents an intensely human struggle for freedom."—The New York Post

From the Hispanic American Historical Review

The Black Napoleon. The Story of Toussaint Louverture. By PERCY WAXMAN. (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, [cl931]. Pp. [viii], 298.   Bibliography.)

The Story of Haiti from the Discovery of the Island by 'Christopher Columbus to the present Day. By HARRIET GIBBS MARSHALL. (Boston: The Christopher Publishing House, [cl930]. Pp. 177, Index.   $2.00.)

The first of these books is a well-written, just description of the extraordinary career of a most remarkable man. The general excellence of the work justifies one in making extensive comment regarding it.

It is to be regretted that there is no list of contents, no index, and no good map. The absence of both contents and index is irritating; and the sketch map on the fly leaves only accentuates the need of a better one...

Mr. Waxman gives us, one feels, a true unbiased picture of the career of this wonderful man, probably the most noteworthy that the Negro race has produced—many of whose biographies have tended to either blame or praise unduly.   In his preface he says

"As far as the life of a Negro born in slavery can be said to resemble the life of a free white man, Toussaint’s history presents many striking parallels with Napoleon 's. They were both born in humble circumstances, speaking of course in a purely relative sense. Both Toussaint and Napoleon reached the heights through their own genius and ability to make full use of their opportunities. They both rose to prominence on the heels of a bloody revolution. While Toussaint Louverture, however, spent his life in the cause of Negro freedom, Napoleon's supreme efforts were inspired by a desire to make France the mistress of the world and himself the master of France. Both Toussaint and Napoleon were spurred on by a limitless personal ambition, but while Toussaint 's underlying dream was to establish a race of free men, Napoleon was eternally obsessed with the yearning to found a dynasty."

TO C. B. W.

IN MEMORY OF PORT-AU-PRINCE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

WHEN Columbus first arrived at the island which the Indians called Haiti, he named it Espanola or as it is generally written, Hispaniola. Later the entire island was re-christened Santo Domingo. After the Peace of Ryswick in 1697 the one-third portion of the island which the Spanish ceded to the French was named by them Saint Domingue, which English-speaking people called San Domingo. The Spanish-speaking section retained the name (as it still does) of Santo Domingo. Throughout this book whenever the French section of the island is referred to, the name San Domingo is used, while Santo Domingo is used for the Spanish.

An occasional glance at the map may prove helpful to those readers who may be unacquainted with the island.

PRELUDE

FOUR miles from the Franco-Swiss border at the entrance of a narrow pass in the Jura mountains, a rock five hundred feet high shoots like an arrow into the clouds. Like a gnarled old gnome crouched on its peak is the ancient fortress of Joux, whose sinister history winds its way back to the tenth century.

Today the Chateau de Joux is entirely dismantled, and a single bomb from a passing airplane could probably shatter the whole structure to bits; but there was a time when this antiquated stronghold was regarded as impregnable.

The first record known to history of this medieval chateau deals with an incident during the Crusades when the Sire de Joux set out to do battle against the infidel Turk, leaving his wife behind him to while away the hours weaving tapestry. During his absence a neighboring noble, the Sire de Montfauçon, took advantage of the situation to relieve some of the monotony for the lonely lady.

One day quite unexpectedly the Sire de Joux returned unannounced from the Holy Land and surprised the Lady Berthe in the arms of her lover. Seizing his rival, he had him instantly hanged from the branch of a pine tree. Then the outraged Crusader shut his wife up in the Fort de Joux, where she languished for over ten years, until death released her. Every day for one hour she was compelled to gaze through the only opening in her cell on the body of her lover as it swayed in the breeze, until the time came when it rotted and fell.

During a period of nearly nine hundred years many noted political prisoners from time to time clanked their way to dungeons in this damp and cheerless chateau, and there is not a single record of a successful escape. One of the most famous guests of Joux was the incorrigible Mirabeau, who more than once occupied a cell during the days when lettres de cachet were epidemic in France.

On a rainy afternoon in August, 1927, a large body of officials, many of whom had journeyed all the way from Paris, paid a pilgrimage to one of the cells in this old fortress at the invitation of Colonel Alfred Nemours, at that time Minister to France from the Republic of Haiti.

Among the guests were special representatives of the French Government, military officials, senators, deputies, delegates from the League of Nations, war veterans, and members of numerous patriotic societies.

By a special arrangement with the French Minister for Foreign Affairs these men and women had gathered to attend a ceremony in memory of a West Indian Negro whom Napoleon had secretly imprisoned and “allowed to die” in the Fort de Joux over one hundred and twenty-seven years ago. This ex-slave whom so many had come to honor was the famous liberator, Toussaint Louverture, the most remarkable military leader the black race has ever produced and one of the most extraordinary men of all time, white or black.

How a Negro, living in slavery for almost fifty years, set out to free his people, rose to be Governor General of San Domingo, incurred the displeasure of Napoleon Bonaparte, and came to end his days in a dungeon on the Franco-Swiss border comprises one of the most fantastic recitals in history, with its beginning almost in the shadow of Columbus’s discovery of the New World.

So much that is purely legendary has been written about Toussaint Louverture and so little trustworthy “source material” exists that it is extremely difficult for one with no gift for fiction to attempt a complete story of his life.

Nicely documented papers dealing with Negro slaves and carefully filed away for the convenience of interested biographers were conspicuously rare in the San Domingo of the eighteenth century.

Nearly everything we have learned about Toussaint from his contemporaries was written by Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, and mulattoes, against all of whom he had fought many bloody campaigns; yet in spite of this, when we come to consider what even his bitterest enemies have to report of his character, ability, and achievement, the astonishing genius of the man becomes apparent.

Every writer who has paid any attention to Toussaint Louverture uses the word “extraordinary” in describing him. Even those who hated his name acknowledged frankly his uncanny gifts as a military leader and political administrator.

Born in slavery, with hardly any education as we understand the term, with no military training or experience for the first fifty years of his life, Toussaint Louverture rose to become Governor General of San Domingo and Commander-in-Chief of the Army. To those who have written about him this man is either god or devil. There are no lukewarm opinions to be found in any works dealing with Toussaint Louverture. Few men in history have received such extravagant praise or such vitriolic denunciation.

Norvins in his book on Napoleon called Toussaint “a man of genius.” Beauchamp referred to him as “one of the most extraordinary men of a period when so many extraordinary men appeared on the scene.” Auguste Comte in his Calendrier Positiviste included Toussaint with Washington, Plato, Buddha, and Charlemagne among those he suggested as worthy to replace all the calendar saints.

Lamartine composed a poetical drama with Toussaint as its hero. Harriet Martineau wrote a novel based on his life. Whittier published a lengthy poem devoted to him. Wordsworth honored him with a sonnet, while every American school-boy is more or less acquainted with Wendell Phillips’s famous discourse on Toussaint Louverture in which the noted Abolitionist, in a burst of highly emotional oratory, declared:

“I would call him Cromwell, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the State he founded went down with him into his grave. I would call him Washington, but the great Virginian held slaves. This man risked his empire rather than permit the slave trade in the humblest village of his dominion. You think me a fanatic tonight, for you read history not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when truth gets a hearing, the muse of history will put Phocion for the Greek and Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, choose Washington as the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization and John Brown the ripe fruit of our noonday; then dipping her pen in the sunlight will write in the clear blue above them all the name of the soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint Louverture.”

General Pamphile de Lacroix, who fought against Toussaint, talked against him, and wrote against him, admitted that this Negro never broke his word to a friend or foe.

Sir Spenser St. John, a British consular agent at San Domingo, called Toussaint “the one grand figure of a cruel war.”

Marcus Rainsford, a British officer, arrested as a spy, sentenced to death, and freed by Toussaint, constantly referred to him as “that truly great man.”

Chateaubriand in his Mémoires d'Outre Tombe directly charged Bonaparte not only with having murdered Toussaint Louverture but also with having imitated him while he was alive—the most maddening accusation any one could ever have made against the Negrophobian Napoleon.

As far as the life of a Negro born in slavery can be said to resemble the life of a free white man, Toussaint’s history presents many striking parallels with Napoleon’s. They were both born in humble circumstances, speaking of course in a purely relative sense. Both Toussaint and Napoleon reached the heights through their own genius and ability to make full use of their opportunities. They both rose to prominence on the heels of a bloody revolution. While Toussaint Louverture, however, spent his life in the cause of Negro freedom, Napoleon’s supreme efforts were inspired by a desire to make France the mistress of the world and himself the master of France. Both Toussaint and Napoleon were spurred on by a limitless personal ambition, but while Toussaint’s underlying dream was to establish a race of free men, Napoleon was eternally obsessed with the yearning to found a dynasty.

Both Toussaint and Napoleon became famous not only as military leaders but also as political executives. Both men were distinguished by great personal courage in the field, and both were idolized by their soldiers. In many respects, on the miniature stage of San Domingo, Toussaint played much the same kind of rôle that Napoleon performed so brilliantly in the vaster theater of European affairs.

In many incidents of their lives there are also strange parallels. On the return from Elba when Louis XVIII sent troops to seize him, Napoleon confronted them alone and unarmed. “I am the Emperor,” he said, and the soldiers instantly lowered their rifles and joined him. Twelve years before that, while Toussaint was fighting Napoleon’s troops, an entire regiment had, unknown to him, deserted and gone over to the enemy. Surprised to see these men going into action against him during an engagement, Toussaint crossed the field, faced them alone, and cried, “Children, can you point your bayonets at me?” The deserters knelt in a body and begged his forgiveness.

When Toussaint was in his cell at Joux, Napoleon heard a fantastic story that his prisoner at the height of his power had hidden $8,000,000 in the San Domingo mountains and that with his own hand he had shot the six blacks who had carried the treasure there for him. Napoleon sent one of his generals to wring the secret of his hiding-place from Toussaint, but the black leader denied the whole story, and in spite of seven visits from Napoleon’s messenger nothing came of them.

When Napoleon himself was a prisoner at St. Helena rumors spread all over Europe about an immense fortune he was supposed to have secreted. His enemies made numerous efforts to force Napoleon to disclose its whereabouts, but with no more result than he himself got from Toussaint.

Both Toussaint and Napoleon toppled from the heights as soon as they had achieved supreme authority. Both were finally delivered into the hands of their bitterest enemies. Both were torn from the arms of their families, and both ended their lives on a barren rock—the Negro of the tropics perishing amid the pitiless snows of the Alps, the white man of the temperate zone panting his life away under the blistering rays of the St. Helena sun.

While Toussaint lay dying in his miserable cell at Joux he addressed letter after letter to the First Consul pleading with him for a trial in an open court, but the great man took no notice. Later on when Napoleon himself was a captive he may have remembered Toussaint’s pathetic petitions as his own bitter reproaches to the British Government remained unanswered, and it is not without significance that one day shortly before his death Napoleon said to his secretary Las Cases, “I have to reproach myself with the attempt made upon San Domingo during the Consulship. I should have been satisfied to govern the colony through Toussaint Louverture.”

Many of the political troubles that have periodically distressed the unfortunate Republic of Haiti from that day to this are indirectly traceable to this initial error of Napoleon’s.

CHAPTER

I

THE discovery of the New World is on the whole generally admitted to have proved of benefit to mankind. Even the most imperialistic opponent of the democratic idea is likely to make this concession. If, however, you study the turbulent history of Haiti, with its long record of oppression, bloodshed, and misery, you will be inclined to forgive any of its citizens who fail to glow with enthusiasm over the memorable voyage of the Santa Maria.

On December 6, 1492, Christopher Columbus, exhilarated by the conviction that he had reached the continent of Asia, stumbled on the palm-fringed shores of Haiti, bringing with him the blessings of civilization from which that unhappy island has not yet entirely recovered.

The explorer paid his first visit ashore with becoming ceremony. With his congenital imaginativeness he immediately saw some fancied resemblance to one of the provinces in Spain, and in order to do honor to his royal patrons, Ferdinand and Isabella, Columbus christened the island Hispaniola, unaware that it was already known to its inhabitants as Haiti (“high land”).

At the time of the arrival of the Spaniards Haiti is reputed to have been occupied by about one million dusky, simple-minded, undersized people who asked but little of life and succeeded in obtaining it with considerable ease. The men were entirely naked, but the women, anticipating our own post-war styles, wore a cotton skirt that did not quite reach the knees. The faces and several parts of the bodies of these natives were fantastically painted with glaring colors, which apparently appealed to Columbus, for in a report sent to Queen Isabella he described the Indians (as he called them) as good-looking and well-favored. Only the intoxicating circumstance of having discovered a new world can explain this flattery.

In spite of his excitement on meeting these exotic creatures the practical side of things was not entirely slighted by Columbus, for he had provided himself with a large quantity of glass beads, pins, knives, brass rings, hawks’ bells, and other trinkets for trading purposes. He also took ashore with him a passionate zeal to convert the people to the true faith and a still more passionate desire to find out if there was any gold on the island.

When the admiral and several members of his expedition burst on them the natives fled in alarm.

Their instinct did them credit, and it might have been better for their future happiness if they had remained in the depths of the forest and taken their chances of dying of curiosity; but the Indians, obsessed by an uncontrollable desire, wandered out from the safety of their hiding-places to gaze once more on those awe-inspiring creatures who had (so they believed) dropped from the heavens.

Subsequent experiences made them change their notions as to the original dwelling-place of Spaniards.

As soon as Columbus and his men had arrived within converting distance of the Indians they began to inquire if gold could be had on the island. As if in answer to prayer some of the natives displayed crudely made ornaments of the precious metal to the widening eyes of the Spaniards, and when they caught sight of these trinkets their gold-thirst became an obsession. From that moment the tranquility of native life in Hispaniola was ended.

The Indians readily exchanged their bits of gold for hawks’ bells, knives, and pins, and as soon as they understood the mania of the Spaniards to obtain larger quantities they directed them to a region called Cibao (which Columbus, under the influence of Marco Polo, instantly imagined was Cipango—Japan), where there was supposed to be an inexhaustible supply of gold.

Eighteen days after his arrival in the New World the admiral set sail for this Eldorado, but owing to the negligence of a youthful steersman, the vessel was wrecked that night. As soon as Columbus saw that his caravel could not possibly be saved he sent messengers ashore to a cacique (one of the native chiefs) named Guacanagari, to inform him of his disaster and to ask for help. When Guacanagari heard of Columbus’s misfortune he shed tears to think that so glorified a being could undergo such an experience as a wreck. He ordered all his people with their canoes to help unload the vessel while he and his relatives kept careful guard over the salvaged property as it was brought ashore.

Not only did this native Arawak labor to save as much of the admiral’s property as possible, but he also assured Columbus that everything he himself owned was at his disposal. Not the slightest attempt was made by any of his people to take advantage of the Spaniards’ mishap.

“So loving, so tractable, so peaceable are these people,” wrote Columbus in reference to this incident, “that I swear to your Majesties there is not in the world a better nation nor a better land. They love their neighbors as themselves; and their discourse is ever sweet and gentle and accompanied with a smile; and though it is true that they are naked, yet their manners are decorous and praiseworthy.”

The reward for their kindness which the Spaniards a little later bestowed on these loving, tractable, and peaceable people created a stench in the nostrils of the world for many a day.

The loss of his caravel and the absence of another of his vessels on a voyage of exploration under Martin Pinzon made Columbus realize that he could not possibly take all his followers back to Spain with him, and as he was most anxious to return home and tell the good news of his discovery to Ferdinand and Isabella he decided to establish a settlement on the spot where he had been wrecked and to leave part of his crew behind him to take care of it.

The ground was cleared for a small fort to be made out of the timbers of his caravel. In ten days it was completed, owing largely to the assistance of the Indians who unknowingly helped to build what one writer called “this first monument to their own servitude.”

In reality the peace-loving Arawaks were delighted to have the Spaniards handy so that they could help them beat off the attacks of the cannibalistic Caribs who periodically paid them head-hunting visits from neighboring islands.

Columbus named this first settlement in the New World Navidad because he had landed there on Christmas Day. What the Indians later on called it has never been printed.

When the little fort was provisioned and armed Columbus selected thirty-eight of his men to remain there while he returned to Spain to give an account of his voyage to his royal patrons. He left strict instructions with every member of the garrison not to offend the Indians by any act of violence, cruelty, or threat, but to cultivate their friendship, inspire them with confidence, and treat them with kindness. In the full belief that his injunctions would be carried out, Columbus left Navidad on January 4, 1493, promising to come back as soon as possible.

When the admiral returned in November of that year from his triumphant reception at Madrid he was piqued that not one member of the garrison came down to the water’s edge to greet him. Feeling a little ill at ease, Columbus went ashore, wondering if there was any special reason for the uncanny silence. He soon learned that there was. He found the fortress entirely demolished. Tattered garments, human bones, stained and broken utensils scattered around the ruins, left no room for doubt as to what had happened.

Later, when a brother of Guacanagari appeared on the scene, Columbus learned in detail the fate of his followers. Left without his restraining hand, they quickly forgot his instructions and began to commit robbery, rape, and murder on the defenseless natives. At first the Indians bore patiently the daily outrages of the Spaniards—their looting of the food supply, their attempts to enforce slavery, and above all their attitude toward the native women.

But at last they could endure no more. One night, while the unguarded Spaniards were asleep, the caciques quietly assembled their forces, surrounded the fort, and set it on fire. Those among the defenders who were not killed as they attempted to escape were drowned when they reached the sea.

After Columbus had heard the complete story he resolved that no more surprise attacks should be made on his followers. He began there and then to take measures for the future. He traced out the plan of a town near a large bay and pressed into service every pair of hands he could secure. In a short time buildings, houses and forts, were far enough advanced to provide shelter and security.

In his desire to do honor again to his queenly patron, Columbus called this first city of the New World Isabella.

Even under the most favorable conditions it would have been difficult to establish a settlement of any importance in an unfamiliar, uncultivated country, but the supineness, laziness, and mutinous discontent of his own men intensified Columbus’s problems.

The natural indolence of the Spaniards seemed to receive great encouragement from the enervating tropical climate. Then again, many of Columbus’s goodly company were gentlemen totally unaccustomed to the grosser forms of fatigue. They had engaged in the romantic enterprise in the hope that the only work they would be required to perform in the New World would be to stoop occasionally to pick up nuggets when no servants were handy.

But instead of finding mountains of gold, the Spaniards learned that some one would have to cultivate the soil if they were to continue to live; and as it was very far from their intention to do anything so menial, the Indians had the privilege thrust on them. Needless to say, theirs was an unwilling service, which prompted their self-constituted masters to commit the most cruel excesses on them.

Bryan Edwards in his illuminating History of the West Indies says:

“It may be safely affirmed that the whole story of mankind affords no scene of barbarity equal to that of the cruelties exercised on these innocent and inoffensive people. All the murders and desolations of the most pitiless tyrants that ever diverted themselves with the pangs and convulsions of their fellow creatures fall infinitely short of the bloody enormities committed by the Spanish in the conquest of the New World. They disregarded sex and age and with impious and frantic bigotry even called in religion to sanctify their cruelties. The Spanirds were actuated in many instances by a wantonness of malice that is unexampled in the wide history of human depravity.”

Pedro Martyr, who happened to be an eye-witness, relates that it was a frequent practice among the Spaniards to murder Indians merely for something to do. They even made wagers to see who could strike off a man’s head at a single blow. Herrera also gives us the following vivid picture of Spanish playfulness:

“The natives of Hispaniola altered the natural configuration of the head in infancy and by this practice the crown was so strengthened that a Spanish broadsword instead of cleaving the skull at a stroke would frequently break short upon it.”

These barbarous activities of the Spaniards eventually became so intolerable to the Indians that in sheer despair one hundred thousand of them rose en masse and attacked their persecutors, but without result. Two hundred and twenty steel-clad warriors with twenty ferocious dogs put the whole mob to flight without losing a man. After this signal victory the entire subjection of Hispaniola took place! An iron hand was laid on the unfortunate Arawaks. Their hours of labor were enormously increased, and they became the victims of unrestrained horrors at the hands of their white masters. The Spaniards handed them over to each other as slaves and treated them as so much property. A tax was imposed on all natives above the age of fourteen, to be paid in gold or cotton. Then in another vain attempt to get even, the ignorant Arawaks, knowing that the conquistadores would not endure the indignity of growing their own corn, destroyed every bit of cultivation they could find and fled to the mountains.

Instead, however, of starving their oppressors (who had received supplies from Europe) the Indians merely succeeded in reducing their own numbers by the famine which overtook them. The Spaniards, irritated by the lack of respect that the natives had shown by their flight, pursued them with dogs and destroyed them ruthlessly. In order still further to impress the savages, some of the more fervent-minded adventurers made vows to massacre twelve Indians a day in honor of the twelve apostles![1]

Columbus began to despair. The mountains of gold he was always expecting to stumble upon still eluded him, and he realized that he was causing their gracious Majesties great disappointment.

The returns from his discoveries were by no means sufficient to defray his expenses, and it worried him.

It was possibly this desire to repay his sovereigns that was responsible for the scheme he outlined to Ferdinand and Isabella in 1494. In January of that year Columbus sent several caravels back to Spain, carrying numerous members of his colony who needed medical treatment. This fleet was under the command of Antonio de Torres, who had instructions from Columbus to return swiftly with a much-needed supply of cattle and provisions.

Hispaniola was not yet sufficiently developed to provide food for the Spaniards unless they consented to live like Indians, and as there were only a few competent farmers amongst the colonists a long time might have to elapse before they could hope to be self-supporting. This made it necessary to organize a regular service of vessels to carry provisions from the mother country to the island colony.

Columbus was almost mad with anxiety, wondering what he could send in return for these costly supplies. Although small quantities of gold were obtainable, the long-sought-for “mountains” refused to disclose themselves, and Columbus racked his brains to think of some kind of valuable cargo to ship back to Spain. At last an idea occurred to him. He could make an easy fortune by selling Indians! He then proposed to establish a regular slave trade in exchange for food stuffs and merchandise.

Columbus sent this proposition to Antonio de Torres to be placed before Ferdinand and Isabella, swearing that he would ship only slaves seized from the cannibal tribes of the Caribs.

When Columbus received a reply to his plan he found that his patrons reserved the right to give a decision later, as they first wished to consult ecclesiastical authorities. Columbus could not wait. He immediately loaded the caravels with hundreds of slaves who, however, were not murderous Caribs but peaceful natives of Hispaniola. Furthermore many among them were women, girls, and children. They were shipped like cattle from Hispaniola on February 24, 1495, and many died on the way. Five hundred survivors, however, were actually placed on sale in Seville. Four days later the sale was stopped by royal decree reading as follows:

“The sale of slaves must be absolutely suspended and payment for them not made until we have had time to consult with informed persons, with theologians and canonists, as to whether in good conscience it is permitted to continue with this affair. Especially must Antonio de Torres send us at once the letters which he has from the admiral that we may learn with what motive he has sent these men as slaves to Seville.”

And so it happened that twenty-six months after his discovery of Hispaniola, Columbus himself sowed the seeds for the bloody reaping that came later in the New World.

In 1506 Columbus died. By that time the rapid falling-off of the native population aroused the Spaniards to a recognition of their own dangers. It did not need a professional actuary to figure out that if the Indians continued to be civilized off the face of the earth at the rate they were going, the Spaniards would soon have no one but themselves to act as hewers of wood and drawers of water; and if there was one thing more than another that brought anxiety to their minds it was the thought of manual labor. In despair they sought ways and means to postpone the calamity.

Their solution was typical. Nicholas de Ovando, who had succeeded Columbus as Governor of Hispaniola, suggested that, in order to avoid their own ruin which the total extinction of the Indians would make certain, expeditions should be sent to capture the inhabitants of neighboring islands and bring them to Hispaniola, where they might enjoy the benefit of contact with the Spaniards.

This idea met with approval and was instantly put into execution at the expense of natives dwelling in what we call the Bahaman group of islands.

The islanders were told that if they would only come to Hispaniola they would meet their departed ancestors and share with them the bliss of dwelling in the Elysian Fields. As a result of this “religious” appeal more than forty thousand were tricked into enslaving themselves in the service of the Spaniards.

Viewed solely from a Spanish standpoint, this policy did for a time succeed in producing results for the young colony. Certain mines were opened up. Various agricultural undertakings were operated successfully, and in spite of the heavy tribute exacted by Ferdinand many of the Spanish colonists began to grow rich. Dissipation and luxury of a sort became general and the dazzling accounts of easily acquired wealth that reached the mother country attracted thousands of adventurers to the New World.

With the exception of his inhuman treatment of the Indians, Ovando governed the colony wisely. He founded several new towns in different parts of the island and induced settlers to take up land by offering them generous concessions. Ovando also persuaded the colonists to respect the laws which he instituted for the common good.

Foreseeing that the time would soon come when the gold supply would be exhausted, Ovando did his best to turn the attention of the Spaniards to other industries. It is partly due to his enterprise that the experiment was made of cultivating sugar cane from some cuttings sent from the Canary Isles. When it was found that these slips grew quickly in the rich soil and warm climate of Hispaniola, the production of sugar soon increased. Vast plantations were laid out, factories erected, and in a few years sugar was the great occupation of the inhabitants and the chief source of the colony’s wealth.

The establishment of this new industry, however, intensified the labor problem. It was soon apparent that the introduction of Bahamans was not destined to be successful, for the very good reason that, failing to appreciate the cultural advantages of living under Spanish rule, the imported Indians died like flies. Many of those whose fortitude enabled them to survive preferred suicide, and the shortage became acuter than ever.

Although every effort had been made to prevent Queen Isabella from learning too much about what was going on in the New World, disquieting rumors had reached her from time to time. As a result of what she had heard, before she died she made Ferdinand vow to punish Ovando for his cruelty to the Indians. Ferdinand remembered this during a spasm of piety in 1508 and relieved Ovando of his command and ordered him back to Spain.

Don Diego Columbus, son of the illustrious admiral, succeeded Ovando. He arrived in Hispaniola accompanied by several poor relatives and a hungry suite of hangers-on of both sexes. Don Diego settled himself at the city of Santo Domingo, the newly risen capital of the New World, and entered on a career of glittering luxury. Cruelty and oppression continued. Don Diego became noted for the generosity with which he bestowed Indian slaves upon his friends and admirers.

It is proverbial that nobody likes an Indian giver, and when King Ferdinand learned of Don Diego’s open-handedness with the natives he decided that it was not one of the governor’s privileges. Exercising the royal prerogative, he decided to assign the traffic in Indians to a courtier named Rodrigo Albuquerque, on a commission basis. This gentleman, distinguished for the alacrity with which he accepted the job and the rapacity with which he performed it, entered upon his duties eagerly.

He began by undertaking an official census of the natives. It revealed the staggering news that although it was estimated that one million Indians were on the island when Columbus landed, only sixty thousand were alive in 1508, while a bare fourteen thousand had managed to survive the blessings of Spanish colonization by 1514!

Anxious, no doubt, to make the most of his office while these fourteen thousand still remained above ground, Albuquerque divided them into odd lots like so much merchandise and sold them to the highest bidder. By this arbitrary distribution, many of the Indians were sent into strange territory far from their own settlements, most of them were placed with new masters, and all of them continued to be subjected to inhuman burdens.

But this organized effort did not help the colony’s labor shortage to any appreciable extent. Albuquerque’s zeal in increasing the death rate among the Indians aroused the indignation of Bartolomé de las Casas, a Dominican friar, who had accompanied Columbus to Hispaniola on his third voyage. Las Casas was violently opposed to Indian slavery. He became the avowed champion of these oppressed people, doing everything in his power to relieve them of Spanish cruelty, even going so far as to reproach the king himself.

After the recall of Ovando, Las Casas, kindly and well intentioned, appealed to the authorities to free the remaining Indians from the deadly yoke of slavery. It was pointed out to him that without Indian labor there could not be any future or present prosperity for the colony and in consequence little chance of increased glory for king and country.

Las Casas, in his humane desire to save the natives, replied to this by suggesting that it might be possible to substitute slaves from distant lands who would be stronger, healthier, and more capable of enduring hardships than the native Indians. Thus by an ironical paradox the very man most piously antagonistic to the servitude of the Indians was the blind instrument by which African slavery was introduced into the New World.

The colonists, seeing that their prosperity was fast dwindling away, welcomed the suggestion of Las Casas. They immediately began to “import” slaves from the Portuguese settlements in Africa. A royal patent was granted to a Flemish trader, giving him the exclusive right to ship four thousand Negroes to Hispaniola. This privilege, however, was resold to a firm of Genoese merchants who, anxious to get their money back quickly, charged such high prices for their Africans that the colonists could not afford to buy many.

The introduction of African slaves did not remedy matters, and the colony continued to languish. Most of the newcomers who were by this time flocking to Santo Domingo (as Hispaniola was now known), as a result of glowing rumors, were of the adventurous “get-rich-quick” type. They had been deluded by fantastic tales of gold mountains and a glimpse of the samples that Columbus had originally brought back to Spain. According to competent authorities, nothing but alluvial deposits has ever been found on the island and what the early settlers pounced on so eagerly was merely the river accumulations of centuries.

When the gold-thirsty adventurers realized that nuggets were not glistening on the shore waiting to be picked up they were sadly disappointed. They had not come all the way from Spain for the dull privilege of working in the fields. Even when it was proved that cultivating sugar cane was a profitable venture it did not appeal to these romanticists, and when they received word of newly found honest-to-goodness mines in Mexico and Peru they wasted no more hours in Santo Domingo.

From this time forward the decline of the colony was rapid. In spite of some export of sugar, tobacco, cocoa, ginger, cotton, and hard woods, the glory and glamour of Santo Domingo faded away and the mother country’s interest speedily diminished. Herds of cattle, pigs, and goats were allowed to run wild over the mountains. The majority of the settlers who remained did so through necessity rather than choice. Gradually degenerating, they began to assume illicit relations with the wives and daughters of their black slaves until eventually the entire colony was composed of a vari-colored race that could boast of little Spanish blood.

In 1586 Queen Elizabeth of England, with great gusto, dispatched Sir Francis Drake on a roving commission to do as much damage as possible to all Spanish possessions in the New World. Following these instructions, Drake attacked the capital of Santo Domingo. Meeting with little opposition from the thoroughly scared populace, he destroyed a great number of buildings and might have demolished the entire city if the indolent citizens had not consented to buy him off for $35,000!

Map and views illustrating Sir Francis Drake's West Indian voyage, 1585-6. Source: Library of Congress. Original description: The famouse West Indian voyadge made by the Englishe fleete of 23 shippes and barkes wherein weare gotten the townes of St. Iago, Sto. Domingo, Cartagena, and S. Augustines the same being begon from Plimmouth in the Moneth of September 1585 and ended at Portesmouthe in Iulie 1586.

Paying a British adventurer in 1586 not to destroy their city is a fair indication of the distance the colonists had journeyed from the proud spirit of the conquistadores of 1492!

Other raids similar to Drake’s, as well as an incurable lassitude, caused the island colony’s prosperity to dwindle to nothing. Communication with Spain grew more and more difficult. Trade between Santo Domingo and the mother country languished until it became almost extinct.

Families emigrated. Fields remained uncultivated. Farms were abandoned. Duties and taxes could not be collected. Ruin stared them in the face. And for a final blow (as if these handicaps were not sufficient for the young colony) Santo Domingo began to receive visits from a picturesque crowd of marauders who became known to history as the buccaneers.

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CHAPTER

II

AS soon as her settlements on the various islands in the West Indies were established Spain claimed the exclusive privilege of trading with the New World. She could see no reason why other nations should derive any advantage from her discoveries, and as early as 1600 her colonists commenced seizing all English, French, and Dutch ships that dared to venture into colonial waters. In other words they began to practice piracy.

Another reason why the colonists engaged in this business was the hopeless condition of their own settlements. Also, piracy promised the ardent Spanish temperament a more rapid and romantic method of getting rich than the patient cultivation of the soil.

This new enterprise failed to arouse any enthusiasm in the shipping circles of other nations. Soon the English and French were busy fitting out privateers, not only to protect their own commerce with the New World but also to indulge in reprisals on the Spanish whenever possible.

Naturally, with Europe three thousand miles distant the English and French needed a port of safety for their vessels and supplies in the waters of the Antilles, and by a strange coincidence both nations selected the island of Saint Christopher for this purpose. When it is learned that these traditional enemies established joint depots, dwelt together in peace, and aided each other in their raids, some idea may be gained of the affection with which they regarded the Spanish.

The little community at Saint Christopher grew rapidly, a fact that was not overlooked by the government at Madrid. Spain became so anxious about the future of her own West Indian possessions that in 1630 Frederic of Toledo was sent out with a large fleet to destroy the combined English and French forces at Saint Christopher, which he did with completeness and dispatch.

So thoroughly did Frederic perform his job that only a handful of English and French saved their lives. Of those who did escape capture or death the majority made their way to the island of Tortuga on the northwest coast of Santo Domingo.

Here they were joined by some Dutch refugees who had also found it necessary to flee from the Spanish, and on this merry little turtle-shaped island representatives of these three nations founded a settlement that was later on destined to alter the entire course of history in the New World.

These “brethren of the sea,” as they called themselves, looked with covetous eyes across the strait at the possessions of their common enemy.

At this time herds of wild cattle completely overran the western part of Santo Domingo, and these provided a regular supply of meat for the little community on Tortuga. Because they had adopted the Caribs’ method of cooking their meat, that is, by boucan  [1]—these English, French, and Dutch adventurers came to be known as boucaniers.

These picturesque “brethren of the sea” had original ideas not only on cooking but also on the subject of dress. According to Abbé Raynal they wore “a shirt dipped in the blood of the animals they killed in hunting; a pair of drawers dirtier than the shirt; a girdle made of leather, on which a very short saber was hung and some knives; a hat without any rim and shoes without stockings.”

At first these refugees of Tortuga did not engage in piracy but confined their activities to hunting, tilling the soil, and carousing! It was only after the Spaniards had paid them a surprise visit and murdered those who happened to be at home that the boucaniers began preying on Spanish ships wherever they could find them. This venture became so successful that all other methods of earning a living were discontinued, and the boucaniers of Tortuga became in truth buccaneers as we understand the term today.

That incorrigible romanticist, Time, has attempted to throw a golden haze over the picaresque deeds of the buccaneers, but the truth is that however mildly they began, they eventually descended into nothing but a bunch of throat-cutting opportunists, vagabonds, thieves, and murderers. Among those who became leaders of these pirates was the famous Henry Morgan, who, after committing almost every crime in the calendar, cheated the gallows and ended up with a knighthood.

The struggle of the buccaneers with the Spanish went on with monotonous regularity for a long time, and their permanent hold on Tortuga was not secured until after a protracted succession of failures and triumphs. Eventually the Spaniards tired of the game, and the French made themselves sole masters of the little island, while their British confrères set out to occupy Jamaica.

In 1665 the settlement at Tortuga attracted the attention of the French Government particularly, as by that time it included over four hundred more or less peaceful cultivators who leavened the piratical lump. An appeal was sent to France for assistance, and the mother country sent out a garrison of soldiers, several officers, and a governor, one Bertrand d’Ogeron, who took over the reins in the name of France, erected store-houses, offices, and dwellings, and gave guarantees of safety and protection. Soon the glad tidings spread to raiders, merchants, and pirates that there was a convenient haven at Tortuga in which they could transact private business without interference.

Tortuga is the small island directly north of Haiti.

It did not take d’Ogeron long to discover that multiplication of the population was of vital importance, and having in mind the old maxim that “man was not meant to dwell alone” he had a number of women of a “certain type” brought out from France to “bestow” upon the settlers. These importations were the cast-offs of the Parisian underworld, and the fastidiousness of the colonists may be gauged by the fact that d’Ogeron was left with not a single one of the ladies on his hands. After a kind of auction at which each of the fair ones was knocked down to the highest bidder a union was arranged. The method of tying the knot was of a rather sketchy nature and the wording of the marriage vow might provide some suggestions for our latter-day companionates. It read as follows:

“I take thee without knowing, or caring to know who thou art. If anybody from whence thou comest would have had thee, thou wouldst not have come in quest of me. But no matter; I do not desire thee to give an account of thy past conduct, because I have no right to be offended at it at the time when thou wast at liberty to behave either ill or well according to thy own pleasure, and because I shall have no reason to be ashamed of anything thou wast guilty of when thou didst not belong to me. Give me thy word for the future; I acquit thee of the past.” Then he placed his hand on the barrel of his gun and declared, “This will revenge me of thy breach of faith; if thou shouldst prove false, this will surely be true to my aim.”

Within four years the population rose to over fifteen hundred! D’Ogeron also imported a number of indentured laborers from France who worked under a very strict form of contract. These men were known as the engagés, and although they were white their condition in the community was little better than that of the black slaves among whom they toiled.

As Tortuga grew in importance more and more settlers left the island and stealthily squatted themselves on Santo Domingo, cultivating tobacco, sugar, corn, cocoa, indigo, etc., until they became so numerous that almost the entire west coast of the Spanish colony gradually glided under French jurisdiction. D’Ogeron founded on Santo Domingo the important towns of Cap François (now Cap Haïtien) and Port de Paix on the north; Goave, Léogane, and Port-au-Prince on the west, and did his best to extend French influence and authority over the entire island.

This energetic “colonizing” roused the Spanish and resulted in a prolonged series of guerrilla struggles. The Spaniards would attack the French settlements from time to time and destroy them, but apparently either from lethargy or the belief that destruction was complete and permanent, they would return to their own towns without bothering to leave a garrison or even a single soldier behind.

The consequence was that the French would return, rebuild with renewed energy, and increase the size of their plantations. This series of attacks, reprisals, and withdrawals dragged on wearily until 1697, when the Peace of Ryswick was signed and a much weakened Spain conceded France’s right to the western section of Santo Domingo, which amounted to almost one-third of the entire island.

And so by a strange chain of circumstances a handful of buccaneers were responsible for founding one of the richest possessions in the world.

In yielding a section of Santo Domingo to France, Spain did not think she was making any great sacrifice. To her the colony had become a heavy burden instead of a revenue-producer, and she was not sorry to see some one else shoulder a part of it.

In direct contrast with the miserable conditions in the Spanish portion of the island, the French section began to prosper almost from the moment the Peace of Ryswick was signed. As the Spanish lost interest and their territory sank further and further into decay the French began with unbounded energy to take every advantage of the opportunity afforded them.

Source: Putnam's Handy Volume Atlas of_the World by G.P. Putnams Sons 1921

A tremendous export trade in sugar, tobacco, indigo, hard woods, and coffee sprang up. Material wealth increased with incredible rapidity, and it was not long before the rugged simplicity of the buccaneer days had entirely vanished.

An official memoir of 1718 refers rather scornfully to this. It says: “The inhabitants of the northern section having formerly been adventurers were accustomed to all kinds of labor, and walked barefoot in the sun without a thought of danger. But since the late peace has made as many fortunes as there are inhabitants, their manner of life is entirely changed. Instead of a bit of wild boar and bananas on which they used to make merry, their tables are now laden with well-served delicacies. They no longer dare go out before sundown for fear of the heat and even then only in a carriage with comfortable springs.”

Prodigality, opulence, splendor and dissipation spread a glittering corruption everywhere. Dining à la Créole became a synonym for prodigious and wasteful feasts. So many servants crowded round the tables of the wealthy classes that the diners could hardly breathe.

Moreau de Saint Méry, writing of this period, reports that “it is beneath the dignity of a rich man to have less than four times as many servants as he needs. The women have an especial gift for surrounding themselves with a useless retinue.”

There was a widespread passion for making money quickly, and naturally standards of business honor did not reach any dizzy heights. Everybody wanted to get rich and be able to make a splurge in Paris, and many had their fling without even waiting to get the money to pay for it. In an impatient and feverish society, such as French San Domingo enjoyed at this period, what is paradoxically called “high living” was popular. Drunkenness was one of the chief pastimes. Rum was cheap and plentiful. Taverns were as thick as palm trees. Gambling went on day and night, while the fame of the mulatto girls of Le Cap (as Cap François was always known locally) was wafted like a scented zephyr throughout the entire West Indies.

All the coastal towns were more or less like Le Cap, colorful, noisy, gay, and wide open. (Le Cap is also known as Cape Haitien.)

Inland where the great planters (les grands blancs) lived in isolated splendor they reigned like petty princes, leaving the management of their vast estates to overseers. Although they had the means to gratify every whim, cultural pursuits were conspicuous by their absence and most of the planters wallowed in idleness, living openly with Negro or mulatto mistresses. Nearly all these great land-owners had the air of invaders camping temporarily on territory they had successfully conquered, and though they lived in fantastic luxury, not one of them had any real love for the land that gave them their fortunes. Few even of the richest mansions had any atmosphere of a permanent home. The proprietors were all dreaming of the day when they could quit the island forever and live in Paris. To go to Paris was the height of every one’s ambition. The thought of it fascinated the colonists, whether they were born in San Domingo or had only recently come out from France. As often as they could they paid visits to the city of their dreams, where they delighted in shocking the staider Parisians with their prodigal excesses. In fact their un-French lack of thrift and their ostentatious extravagance made “rich as a Creole” [2] a common simile.

The Creole women were of the beautiful languorous type whose graces are more physical than mental. The influence of a tropical climate intensified their natural indolence, and an almost complete lack of education completed the futility of their existence. They were utterly spoiled, childishly jealous, and intensely passionate. The loneliness and monotony of plantation life served only to increase their wild desire for gayety and sensuous enjoyment. Dreams of fashion, parties, balls, jewels, flirtations, and wanton luxury filled that vicious vacuity called the Creole lady’s mind.

Next in the social scale to the grands blancs were the petits blancs, small tradesmen, artisans, clerks, and plantation employees. These petits blancs were jealous and envious of the grands blancs, but their hatred for their more fortunate countrymen seemed like a deep affection compared with the loathing they felt for the mulattoes, many of whom were extremely wealthy. And in turn the grands blancs, the petits blancs, and the mulattoes all united in expressing their utter contempt for the black slaves.

At this period of San Domingo’s swollen prosperity statisticians grew lyrical when they listed the millions of pounds of sugar, coffee, tobacco, indigo, and other products that poured into France from the richest of all island colonies. Nothing like this Paradise on earth had ever been known before.

The government was vested in a governor general and an intendant, both nominated by the King of France on the recommendation of the Minister of Marine. They possessed separate and distinct authority in some cases, while in others they acted jointly. They had supreme power in every department, enacting all laws, supervising all appointments, and distributing crown lands as they thought proper. The people had no protection whatever against any possible abuse of their powers. It was not very often, however, that both governor and intendant agreed on anything, and the colonists derived some degree of benefit from their dissensions. In the long run the governor possessed the greater authority because he was titular head of the army.

All taxes and duties were imposed by a court consisting of the governor general, the intendant, the presidents of provincial councils, the attorney general, the navy commissioner, and several militia commandants. This court was dignified by the title of Colonial Assembly, although the colonists were not represented by one single delegate.

San Domingo was divided into three great provinces or departments. The north, most important and wealthy, had twenty-four parishes. The west had nineteen, and the south included only nine. Each of these had a commandant at its head possessing frankly despotic powers and responsible only to the governor.

The number of the King’s troops was between two and three thousand men. In addition, each of the fifty-two parishes had to raise one or more companies of white militia, a company of mulattoes, and a company of free blacks. It is interesting to note that none of the militia received any pay.

The free “men of color,” [3] as the mulattoes were called, although free as far as personal ownership was concerned, were still considered the property of the colony and as public property were forced to submit to whatever treatment those in control were pleased to deal out to them. Brushing aside all euphemisms, the mulattoes were treated by the government as slaves, in the strictest sense of the word.

On reaching manhood they were compelled to serve three years in a military barracks, and when that service ended they were subject to call for the corvée—in reality forced labor for the repair of highways—a particularly hard and unpopular job. Incidentally, not only did these free men of color receive no pay or allowances of any kind, but they also had to buy their own arms, ammunition, and equipment. They were ordered out to drill very frequently, and the King’s officers abused their authority over them like petty tyrants.

Mulattoes were forbidden to hold any public office, trust, or employment. They were not allowed to enter any of the professions, no matter how well educated they happened to be. A mulatto could not be a priest, a lawyer, a doctor, a chemist, a schoolmaster, or a jeweler. If a mulatto owned a horse he had to dismount at the entrance to a town and lead the animal through the streets. No white man with the slightest pretension to self-respect would have dared to marry a mulatto woman. Such a lowering of white racial pride would have dishonored him forever. By a queer turn of logic, however, it was not considered a disgrace for a white man to have a Negress or a mulatto woman for his mistress and to make the offspring of that union act as slaves on his own property.

No man of color could ever secure a verdict against a white man in a court of justice, no matter what the merits of the case might be. On the other hand no white man ever failed to get prompt and speedy justice against a colored opponent. To give a concrete idea of the “justice” meted out in San Domingo to the colored races, the law declared that if a free mulatto presumed to strike a white man his right hand should be cut off; but if a white man struck a free mulatto a small fine would satisfy the law.

Strangely enough, in spite of the numerous restrictions imposed on the mulattoes there was nothing to prevent them from acquiring and holding property; and there were no limits to the amount they might own. This privilege enabled several of them to become proprietors of large estates, and as bribery was not altogether unknown in military, judicial, and governmental circles, those of the colored people who had the means to buy protection very naturally did so. Many of the mulattoes became exceedingly wealthy. By the end of the eighteenth century they owned almost one-tenth of the colony’s plantations. Many of them had fathers belonging to the most aristocratic families in France, and many had been sent to French universities to be educated. Rich mulattoes also owned slaves.

In spite of their numbers, their wealth, education, or influence, the mulattoes were throughly despised and treated with insolent contempt by all classes of whites, particularly by the petits blancs. The hatred of this class was intensified by envy because so many of the mulattoes were wealthy while they themselves, although white, held subordinate positions. As a matter of fact these petits blancs, particularly those in the towns, were the scum of France, and their ferocious attitude toward the men of color helped to bring nearer and nearer the final day of reckoning.

By 1754 the population of the French colony had grown to 14,000 white inhabitants and 4,000 free mulattoes. There were 600 sugar plantations; 3,379 of indigo; 100,000 cocoa trees; 6,500 cotton plants; 63,000 horses and mules; 93,000 head of cattle; 6,000,000 banana trees; 1,000,000 potato fields, and other valuable produce.

There were also 200,000 slaves on whose scarred backs the whole burden of the colony’s material wealth rested. These unfortunate Negroes had been pouring into San Domingo in thousands ever since the signing of the Peace of Ryswick. Every miserable franc of the colony’s wealth was stained with their blood; every field of sugar cane was fertilized with their bones. The silks and jewels the women wore, the luxury and prodigality of their homes, the very bread the planters ate, they owed to the agonized efforts of the poor black devils they flogged into daily activity. . . .

The lyrical statisticians who never tired of acquainting the world with glowing accounts of San Domingo’s glory, neglected to mention this side of the smiling island’s astonishing prosperity.

CHAPTER

III

HOWEVER harsh the treatment the mulattoes received at the hands of the whites, it was like pampered luxury compared to that dealt out to the Negro slaves. The most inconceivable horrors were inflicted on these unfortunate creatures. They were brought to San Domingo from all parts of Africa. Some of them had been prisoners taken in battle, many were stolen in tribal raids, while others were kidnapped and sold to the white traders by their own people.

When the traffic was at its height, three hundred vessels were necessary to keep pace with the demand. In one year one hundred thousand men, women and children were torn from their homes on the west coast of Africa, loaded with chains, and flung like so much inanimate cargo into the stifling holds of slave ships.

As soon as the slaves were captured they were imprisoned in coastal “factories,” awaiting the arrival of the floating hell that was to take them to the West Indies.

On receipt of an off-shore signal from the ship’s captain the blacks were driven in shrieking herds from the “factories” down to the water’s edge. They were then laid flat on the bottoms of canoes with their wrists and ankles securely tied. There they were left, sometimes for days, exposed to wind, sun, and rain, with scarcely enough food to keep body and soul together.

Then those who had not been able to kill themselves were paddled out to the waiting vessels. The minute after reaching the deck they were fastened together two by two with handcuffs on their wrists and irons riveted on their legs. When that thoughtful measure for their safety was completed they were sent below and placed in a space between decks where it was not possible even to sit up straight. With becoming chivalry the women were thrust into a separate compartment without being manacled.

In many ships the poor black wretches were stowed in such great numbers and so close together that the only way they could remain there at all was for them all to lie spoon fashion next to each other on their sides.[1]

If a storm arose all the port holes were closed and the hatches battened down, shutting out all light and air from men, women, and children accustomed as a rule to roam the forests at will.

Thousands of them had the good fortune to perish on the voyage through suffocation, while those who survived welcomed any opportunity to throw themselves overboard, gladly preferring drowning to the living death to which they instinctively felt they were bound.

The slaves were fed twice a day, at eight in the morning and five in the evening. They were brought up on deck in gangs of fifty or sixty at a time and after a careful examination of their irons, a long chain was run through a ring-bolt fixed to the deck. This kindly precaution not only saved the slaves from falling overboard but it also prevented them from standing up.

In fine weather they were allowed to remain on deck chained up like this until four or five in the afternoon before being sent below to resume their sardine-like existence.

In order that the Negroes should not grow too flabby while leading the lazy life of sea travelers their diet consisted mainly of horse-beans boiled to a pulp, accompanied by an allowance of half a pint of water for each meal. It frequently happened that some of the Negroes, out of sheer ingratitude possibly, refused to eat the mess, and measures were taken to correct this reluctance. One favored method of inducing the poor devils to open their mouths was to hold a shovelful of red-hot coals so near their lips as to scorch them severely.

Not only did the considerate sailors feed their black charges regularly; they also saw to it that they had proper and sufficient recreation to keep them fit and preserve their market value. Whenever the captain felt in a gay mood, groups of Negroes were brought on deck, properly guarded, of course, and ordered to dance to the music of a drum. It is to be regretted that sometimes many of them showed a doleful disinclination to engage in the merriment, but a severe flogging at the good strong hands of a sailor soon remedied that. Frequently, also, the unwilling blacks were ordered to cheer things up by singing, but when they did so their songs, it is reported, were of a sad, melancholy nature.

The sailors were not only permitted but encouraged to thrust their amorous attentions on the helpless women and girls, for the simple reason that every prospective birth added to the value of the outraged mother. Needless to say, in case of an accident, shipwreck, or epidemic the slaves were instantly abandoned by the white members of the crew. Losing a cargo or two was one of the risks of the business, and it has been conservatively estimated that in one year at least fifteen thousand black corpses were scattered over the ocean passage between the west coast of Africa and the West Indies.

The French colony of San Domingo alone provided an annual market for twenty thousand slaves. And it was there that they brought the highest prices. As soon as the unfortunate survivors of the voyage were landed and disposed of they were branded on the breast with their master’s initial. With Gallic impartiality men, women, and children were all treated alike in this respect.

Taking their places among their companions already in servitude, the newcomers found everything alarmingly strange—the language, the country, the labor, the mode of life, and even the face of the new master on whom they depended for their very existence. Dimming forever any vague hopes of happiness they may have entertained, they heard all around them tales of cruelties, floggings, outrages, and almost unbelievable brutality. They not only heard of these things—they saw the marks of them on the bodies of their fellows. Many of them committed suicide as soon as they reached the plantations, and at one estate thirty Negroes hanged themselves in a single day.

Baron de Wimpffen, the morning after arriving at San Domingo in 1789, was awakened by “the cracking of whips, the smothered cries and the indistinct groans of the Negroes who never see the day break but to curse it.” This same highly conservative observer, although a “believer” in slavery, was shocked at the cruelty he witnessed. On one occasion he described meeting a charming white lady who gave a large dinner party and, because the pastry was overdone, in a furious passion gave orders for her Negro cook to be seized and thrown into the still glowing oven. This same writer stated that he was sorry to be compelled to admit that the slaves were more harshly treated by the ladies of the household than by the men. Judging by the fiendish activities of some of the planters as recorded by their own historians, this does not seem possible.

The slaves’ work commenced at daybreak and ended according to the whim or will of the overseer. Frequently their work continued far into the night, and in addition to their crushing labors, novel tortures were invented to inflict on them when the ordinary methods of punishment failed to satisfy the sadistic appetites of their masters.

No slave had a right to be ill. If a horse or a mule fell sick it was led to the veterinary. But the black man was not so lucky.

“I have known many an overseer,” says Malenfant, “who trembled with anger when a Negro came to tell them that he was ill. ‘Show me your tongue or give me your arm,’ they said to him. If the tongue or the pulse did not indicate illness to these doctors the slave, far from going to the hospital, was recommended to receive several heavy blows from fist and stick. Often the slaves had teeth knocked out when they came to the hospital for assistance. Usually after examining a slave’s tongue they spat right in his mouth. This they jokingly called an ‘emetic.’ ”

The huts where the slaves dwelt were at a certain distance from the main house where the overseer or proprietor lived. Their roofs were merely coverings of sugar cane. These shacks were without windows, and daylight could come in only through the door. They were generally twenty to twenty-five feet long, twelve feet wide, and fifteen feet high, and were divided into two or three sections. Two or three planks covered with straw served for beds. A bench or two, a basin to contain a little water— this was all the furniture.

The weekly rations were two and a half pounds of manioc or three cassavas, weighing each two and a half pounds, and two pounds of salt beef or three pounds of fish. But these figures were not strictly lived up to by the masters, and a great number of the slaves, too hungry to sleep, would get up at night to steal a banana or two from the fields. Naturally if they were found they were flogged. Flogging was the most frequent form of punishment. The whip was a symbol of power in San Domingo, and its use and abuse were left entirely to the master. After a flogging, in an economical effort to avoid inflammation and gangrene the wounds were rubbed with lemon juice, salt, or pimiento.

Fair play, generosity, and kindness were almost totally unknown to most of the slaves, and nothing could give a more concrete example of the kind of justice they could hope for than the notorious case of a coffee planter named Lejeune. This complacent gentleman suspected a conspiracy among his slaves to poison him, and in an attempt to force a confession he inflicted unspeakable tortures on a selected number of the Negroes. The authorities heard of it, an investigation followed, and Lejeune was proved guilty beyond a doubt. Was he punished? No. He might have been, but every white man demanded that for the safety of the colony he be acquitted. Letters, petitions, and addresses rained down on the governor and intendant, pleading with them not to let the law take its course. The case was appealed and Lejeune was freed, not because his fellow colonists believed him innocent but because they feared the effect on the slaves if they convicted a white man for a crime against a black.

On the other hand, if some poor Negro in a frenzy of despair turned on his tormentors the Code Noir meticulously prescribed a series of punishments to fit the offense. The guilty one might have his ears cut off, his tongue pierced, his hand removed, and so on. For the slave who killed his master the most frightful punishment was reserved. He was led first of all to the door of the local church, in his shirt, a cord around his neck and a lighted torch in his hand. After having asked pardon of God, of the King and Justice, he was struck in the face by a closed fist. His limbs were then branded with a hot iron. He was finally burned alive and his ashes thrown to the four winds.

Such was the life of the African slaves torn from their native land and delivered up to colonial cupidity. For more than two hundred and fifty years they bore this living hell on the tragic soil of San Domingo, fertilizing it with their sweat and blood while the planters busied themselves with academic discussions as to whether or not blacks really had souls.

Whatever human instincts the whites may have once possessed, rapidly acquired wealth, luxury, and the pursuit of pleasure had sapped them away, and they gave themselves up unreservedly to a mad life of unearned ease and sensual excess. Their male slaves they looked upon as machines—a source of income and nothing else. Their female slaves were regarded in quite another manner. Even as early as 1760 a French commissioner sent by his government to report on the demoralization of the colonists and the large number of sudden deaths among them wrote:

“It arises from the too intimate intercourse of the whites and the blacks; the criminal intercourse that the most of the masters have with their women slaves is the origin of this attack. A legitimate wife seeing the intercourse of her husband with her servant has her severely punished. If the master is not married, and that is mostly the case (marriage not being popular and libertinage more tolerated), the inconstancy natural to the men of this climate makes them change or multiply their concubines, from whence arise innumerable jealousies and destructions; and in the first, as in the second case, are the causes of the taking vengeance now upon the fortunes of the master, in poisoning his Negroes, or taking his life, or that of his wife or even their children.”

It may be wondered where the priests were and what they were doing while all these horrors, crimes, and inhumanities were taking place. Once more let Baron de Wimpffen enlighten us. In 1789 the following passage occurs in one of his remarkable letters:

“The clergy of the colony seem to have voluntarily renounced the advantages which this system of conduct procures them elsewhere. Tranquil in their parsonage houses they spend in peace an income sufficiently large to enable them to live comfortably. Mass is celebrated one way or another, in churches where none go to hear it—so that to avoid the reproach of preaching in the desert they do not preach at all. Still less do they exert themselves to awaken, by private exhortations, the languishing, not to say the expiring zeal of their flocks.

“I am persuaded, Sir, that there are to be found amongst them men of real merit; at the same time truth obliges me to avow that they are not numerous; because the superior clergy, who nominate to the vacant benefices, have contracted the pernicious habit of sending none hither but such intriguing or suspicious characters as they wish to be rid of. To speak my mind freely, nothing can be more irregular than the regular clergy of San Domingo, composed in a great measure of monks who have renounced their order.

“The conjectures which public scandal delights to indulge on the children with which the female mulatto of Monsieur the Rector may have peopled the parsonage keep their course; and as this increase in family is for his Reverence, as well as for the rest of the colonists, a sensible increase of fortune, you may easily comprehend that in the interested age in which we live, few will have the candor to suppose he is indebted for them solely to the good will of his parishioners.”

This was the condition of things in 1789, when the island colony was at the peak of its much-envied prosperity. All France was aglow with the fabulous tale of San Domingo’s glory. No colony in all the world’s history had ever approached its colossal magnificence. What a romantic example for the world of French efficiency and splendor!

At this time the population consisted of 40,000 whites, 50,000 mulattoes, and 500,000 Negro slaves. The wide margin between the first two and the third of these figures was destined to become of great significance a little later on.

CHAPTER

IV

NOT more than half an hour’s easy carriage drive from the flourishing city of Le Cap, in the early part of the eighteenth century, the great cane fields of Bréda plantation glittered like a sluggish flood of green in the vast and fertile Plaine-du-Nord.

The Bréda estate was owned by the Count de Noé, a cultured and kindly man whose name is still remembered in France, partly because of a slave he once owned and partly because his grandson happened to be the famous caricaturist Amédée de Noé, better known in his day as Cham.

In an age when the average planter looked upon his slaves as beasts of burden the Count de Noé was original enough to treat them more or less as human beings. It is recorded that the slaves owned by him were counted so fortunate that there arose the saying in the district, “as lucky as a Negro of Bréda.”

Here, on this plantation, in the month of May, about 1743,[1] Francois Dominique Toussaint (Louverture) was born. He was the son of a slave named Gaou Guinou, who had been captured in Africa and sold on arriving in San Domingo. After his conversion to Christianity Toussaint’s father married a woman of his own tribe. As a result of this union eight children were born, five sons and three daughters, and of the sons Toussaint was the first to make his appearance. His father and mother were both descended from a warlike tribe known as the Aradas, and in spite of many attempts to prove to the contrary, there was not one drop of white blood in Toussaint’s veins. He was pure black, and whatever virtues, powers, or intelligence he manifested, no human being white or mulatto is entitled to claim any credit for them.

Toussaint’s birth created no excitement at Bréda, and beyond a possible smile of satisfaction on the face of the overseer at this increase in the plantation’s potential wealth, the event passed unnoticed. A black baby more or less made little difference to the general routine.

In those days it was the custom of slaves to take the name of the plantation on which they were born as a sort of trademark, and so Toussaint began life as Toussaint Bréda, a name he held for nearly fifty years before assuming the surname of Louverture.[2]

As a very young child Toussaint was thin and feeble; in fact he was so delicate-looking that for a long time he was nicknamed fatras-baton—skinny stick.

Later, as he grew older, his body filled out to normal proportions; he gradually became stronger and accustomed himself more and more to hardships, endurance, and violent exercise. By the time he was twelve he was a powerful, athletic, and thoughtful lad.

In common with other young Negro slaves his first job was to look after the flocks of sheep and goats on the plantation. Later on he was permitted to serve as a stable boy. He had a passionate love for all animals, displaying an uncanny understanding of horses particularly, that proved of great value to him later on in life. His patience was extraordinary, while his amiability and industry attracted the attention of the manager of the plantation, Bayou de Libertas, who promoted him to be his coachman. Compared with the routine labors of the sweating blacks in the cane fields, this was a position of great dignity and honor for a slave and gave Toussaint enormous prestige with his fellows.[3]

This promotion proved an important step in Toussaint’s life, not only because of the exalted position itself, but also because it gave him more leisure, every moment of which he used to learn to read and write, accomplishments not possessed by one slave in a hundred thousand.

It is generally believed that Toussaint was prompted to educate himself by his godfather, an old Negro on the Bréda estate who had himself received some rudimentary instruction from a French missionary.

With painstaking persistence and inexhaustible patience Toussaint learned how to read, write, and draw, and in so doing unlocked the door to another world. Through his devout interest in the church he also picked up a quaint parrot-smattering of ecclesiastical Latin. From his father he learned how to distinguish certain plants that were supposed to possess medicinal virtues, and to this, Toussaint later on owed his first appointment in the black army.

In the strict sense of the word Toussaint was never an educated man and later on in life looked back with amusement at his early schooling. Crude as this was, he possessed such an original, alert mind, keen judgment, and phenomenal memory that it soon became apparent to all who met him that the coachman at Bréda was no ordinary being.

To his fellow slaves Toussaint was a man apart. When they saw him with an open book on his knees, absorbed in study, they looked upon it as something too magical for their comprehension. Toussaint’s unusual character, his gentleness, his native insight, and his “education” caught the imagination of the blacks and helped to develop that complete ascendancy over them that Toussaint held for the rest of his life.

As he grew to early manhood Toussaint became more and more acutely acquainted with the misery of slavery. He lived with his fellow slaves in narrow, low, foul, overcrowded huts where the decency of privacy was impossible. He heard the lash of the slave-driver’s whip and often saw bloody stripes on black bodies; he witnessed parents and children being separated and learned many a story of violation and savage excess.

Though daily made aware that he was a slave and that some one owned his body, he made up his mind that no one should own his soul. Though inwardly seething at the enormity of the crime of slavery, Toussaint avoided any semblance of complaint and gave no cause for suspicion of his true feelings to any one. He went about his duties diligently and prayed to God for patience.

In addition to his studious habits Toussaint became sincerely religious and adopted a moral outlook on life, far different from that of his less enlightened fellow slaves.

When he reached the age of twenty-five Toussaint made up his mind to marry. That in itself still further marked him as highly original, for unions between slaves were rather sketchily arranged and usually without benefit of clergy.[4]

Toussaint would not tolerate any such irregularity, and in due legal form he married a good-natured Negress of enormous girth named Suzanne Simon, who had already had a son by a man of color. Toussaint, however, instantly adopted him and forever after treated him as one of his own children.

For over thirty years Toussaint and Suzanne Louverture lived an idyllically happy life until the tragic day when no less a person than Napoleon Bonaparte decided to separate them.

At the time of his marriage Toussaint was a man of medium height, powerful, wiry, with an ungraceful but dignified figure. His face was decidedly homely. He possessed a forbidding prognathous jaw. His lips were thick, his nose broad and flat, with nostrils wide and open. His voice was high-pitched, nasal, and none too pleasant. His most commanding feature was his eyes. They were black, piercing, and vitally alert. One moment they would flash with animation; the next they would have a soft, genial expression. He had his hair brushed back from his forehead in a queue, while as a head-covering he always wore a madras handkerchief. On the whole his appearance was not very impressive at first sight, and his quiet, serious manner made him seem much older than he really was. Long before he was forty he was referred to as vieux Toussaint.

The more Toussaint read and the more he meditated the less justification he saw for slavery, particularly as the whole terrible system seemed to be based on the color of one’s skin. The more he learned about Christianity and its Founder, the more puzzling it appeared that such an enormous gulf should yawn between one human being and another.

One day there fell into his hands a book that changed the whole course of his life. It was Abbé Raynal’s Histoire Philosophique des deux Indes, and Toussaint’s whole being thrilled with emotion as he read the following passage:

“Nations of Europe! Your slaves are not in need of your generosity or of your councils, in order to break the sacrilegious yoke which oppresses them. The Negroes lack but a chief. Where is the great man? He will appear; we have no doubt of it. He will show himself; he will unfurl the sacred standard of liberty. This venerable signal will cause to gather around him the companions of his misfortune. More impetuous than the torrents, they will leave everywhere the indelible traces of their just resentment. The Old World will join in applause with the name of the hero, who shall have established the rights of humanity. Everywhere the people will institute trophies to his glory.”

These words fired Toussaint’s imagination and helped to crystallize into an unbreakable resolution the vague longings and passionate dreams that had obsessed him from the moment he had learned to read. With Raynal’s words ringing in his ears he resolved to dedicate himself to one purpose—the freedom of the blacks. From that moment he saw himself as the new Spartacus who would arise to bring liberty to his race as Raynal had prophesied. From that day to the end of his life he regarded himself as one who had received a divine mandate with which nothing should be permitted to interfere. As Toussaint dwelt on the injustice, humiliation, oppression, and sorrow to which white rapacity had subjected the black race, all its ardent hopes and aspirations welled up in his soul and set aflame an unquenchable yearning. Freedom for the blacks was not only the mainspring for the insatiable ambition that overwhelmed him; it was also its justification.

For twelve years after his marriage Toussaint continued to go about his daily tasks without letting any one know of his solemn self-dedication. Outwardly calm and self-possessed, inwardly his soul was burning. Studying, digesting, working, watching, praying, and at all times keeping his own counsel, Toussaint lived and waited for the sacred hour of opportunity.

Then one day just as he was wondering if that hour would ever come, the serenity of plantation life in San Domingo was rudely disturbed. The astounding news reached the colony that on July 14, 1789, a mob in Paris had risen against the King of France and captured the Bastille!

CHAPTER

V

WHILE Toussaint was going about his daily tasks in smiling obedience to his master and, in his leisure, studying, meditating, absorbing, and preparing himself for the day of opportunity, events were shaping themselves not only in France but also in San Domingo to bring that day nearer and nearer.

The colony was swollen with wealth—dangerously so—and the gross inequality of its distribution had already sown seeds of dissatisfaction and disorder. The grands blancs grew more and more opulent, and as they did so they became more and more arrogant. The petits blancs envied them and feared their power, while both classes of whites were beginning to grow uneasy about the increasing wealth of the men of color. A spirit of quarrelsomeness and envy spread like a miasma among the more important members of the ruling classes, which Toussaint quietly noted. A captious rivalry sprang up between the two chief cities Le Cap and Port-au-Prince. This became bitterer than ever when in 1787 the Superior Council of Le Cap was suddenly suppressed and its functions transferred to the Council of Port-au-Prince, which then undertook to act for every section of the colony.

Thoroughly aware of the vast possibilities that lay behind all these dissensions and divisions, Toussaint began to glimpse faint streaks of his dearest dreams lighting up the horizon.

Meanwhile discords, threats, and denunciations rumbled throughout the colony, which should have given ample warning to the whites that some sort of upheaval was at hand.

In France the wretched government of Louis XVI had aroused such a storm by 1788 that there was nothing left for that weak and vacillating monarch to do but issue his long-promised call for a meeting of the States General.

San Domingo of course was not, strictly speaking, a province of France, but any opportunity to place the colony’s grievances before the King was not to be overlooked; and an eager yearning to be represented at the National Assembly became almost the only thing that all classes of colonial society were agreed upon.

One of the chief reasons for this was their deep-seated resentment for the military, civil, and judicial representatives whom the mother country had from time to time inflicted on them. The arrogance, superciliousness, and general air of superiority which the French officials displayed toward mere “colonials,” coupled to the unbridled wastefulness of their régime, had not served to endear them to those they came to govern.

Moreover, many of the wealthy planters who lived in Paris had formed a society called Le Club de Massiac, and by an agitating correspondence with friends in San Domingo they prompted the colonists to make the home government aware of their wishes.

It was natural then that the whites welcomed the prospect of sending deputies to represent them in Paris, and in spite of the governor’s intrigues and opposition, meetings were called, his proclamations treated with contempt, while resolutions were passed appointing eighteen deputies to attend the Assembly. Although eighteen did actually reach France, only six were finally admitted.

These deputies were not received in Paris with much enthusiasm. In many quarters a strong prejudice existed against the colonists on account of slavery, a feeling that was rapidly spreading every day, as all forms of tyranny and privileged despotism were being severely denounced. Something new had come to the world with the fall of the Bastille. The idea of individual liberty was in the very air, and the pamphleteers, whose name was Legion, had not neglected the slave-owning planters in their inky activities.

This spirit of hostility had received a great impetus from a powerful organization known as Les Amis des Noirs, founded by the brilliant Brissot in 1788. This famous society, in addition to Brissot, numbered among its members such men as La Rochefoucauld, Lafayette, Robespierre, and Abbé Gregoire, all violent anti-slavery partisans. They poured out such a torrent of pamphlets breathing revolutionary idealism that their humanitarian views became the topic of the hour. Les Amis des Noirs demanded nothing more or less than the immediate and total abolition of the slave trade. They would listen to no compromise. They were out to free the French colonies from the hideous ignominy of slavery and to secure political equality for all, irrespective of color.

Many mulattoes from wealthy families in San Domingo, at that time living in Paris, deliriously allied themselves to Les Amis des Noirs, relying on the club’s fervent sympathy to present their case at the meetings of the States General in which they themselves could play no part. In phrases lyric with hope they wrote burning letters to their fellow mulattoes in San Domingo concerning the exciting turn of events. Due to this inspiring correspondence a deputation of men of color later on visited Paris to present their specific grievances to the National Assembly, taking the tactful precaution to accompany the memorial with a gift of $1,200,000, to which was added a promise that their caste would donate one-fifth of all they owned to aid the national debt. For this they asked to be put on a footing of equality with the whites; they stated that they already equaled them in number and shared with them the actual wealth of the colony.

The President of the Assembly replied to this generous gesture that “no part of the French nation would demand its rights at the hands of the Assembly in vain.” The worthy President no doubt meant what he said.

The States General met on May 5, 1789, and to the dismay of the colonial delegates, wrangled and disputed for nearly six weeks over permitting any of them to take their seats. By the beginning of July, however, the tide turned in their favor, and on the seventh six deputies from San Domingo were solemnly admitted to the Assembly. But by that time the colonists knew enough of the trend of affairs to become painfully aware that they had made a big mistake in placing their own special and peculiar interests under the protection of the National Assembly. They realized their blunder still more thoroughly when they saw to their horror that not only would their own grievances be aired before the Assembly, but such things as political rights for mulattoes and the abolition of slavery would also come up for consideration.

These were the very questions the deputies most wished to keep in the background, but by the time they took their seats the whole nation was apparently up in arms on these two subjects. The feelings of San Domingo’s representatives may be imagined when Lameth, a distinguished member of the legislature, uttered these words:

“I am one of the greatest proprietors of San Domingo; but I declare to you that were I to lose all I possess there I would make the sacrifice rather than to disown the principles which justice and humanity have consecrated; I declare for both the admission into the administrative assemblies of the colony of men of color and the liberation of the blacks.”

It was too late, however, to withdraw, and thanks largely to the powerful efforts of Les Amis des Noirs, the colonial slave-owning deputies were forced to assist at their own political funeral. They became an integral part of the Assembly on July 7, and on the fourteenth the Bastille was stormed, liberating along with its prisoners a spark that exploded the accumulated discontent of centuries.

When the news of the Bastille’s fall reached San Domingo it found the colony rocking with confusion and tumult and combustibly ready for the eruption that was to follow. Violence burst forth everywhere. The larger towns broke out with a veritable rash of tricolor cockades, and many who ventured to regard wearing them in a spirit of levity were excitedly lynched in the sacred name of Liberty. All restraint was thrown off at the news from France. Enthusiasm reached frenzy. As a copy is frequently a violent exaggeration of the original, so the reflection of the revolution became even more fiery and intense in San Domingo than in France. Every one was electrified by the magic words Liberty and Equality. Every one hoped that the Revolution was to provide the opportunity to humiliate the agents of the old régime. Every one who was any one rushed to join the militia. Gorgeous uniforms blossomed forth like tropical flowers. No one wanted to be a mere captain, major, or colonel. Each commander pinned on himself the title of captain general.

Among the white colonists each class translated the fall of the Bastille into a rich opportunity for itself. The planters were certain that the revolution must lead to the colony’s independence, with themselves, naturally, at the head of affairs. The low-class whites applauded the unrestrained violence of the Paris mobs and buoyed themselves up with the stimulating hope that they might get a chance to follow their example in San Domingo. The official representatives of the French Government busied themselves with dreams of a counter-revolution that would restore everything (including their own privileged positions) to its former glory.

While all classes of whites were occupied with these self-interested calculations the busy mulattoes were also touched by the general excitement. They eagerly watched each turn of events for an opportunity to gain their political rights.

As to the Negroes, no one among the whites or mulattoes paid any attention to them. They still went about their daily duties, apparently ignorant of all that was going on around them. And if not ignorant, then totally indifferent. Each faction was too much occupied to bother about the slaves.

In the midst of bitter rivalries, reciprocal denunciations, and fantastic pretensions, each class attacked the other. Without regard to the example they were setting they sought to destroy each other. The passions of the moment blinded them all to the possibilities of the future.

Toussaint kept himself thoroughly posted on all that was happening. The quarrelsome outbursts among the whites shocked and astounded him. For the first time he perceived that white dissensions might provide black opportunities.

In the meantime the National Assembly in Paris published their famous Declaration of Rights in which one doctrine affirmed that “all men are born and continue free and equal as to their rights.” The white colonists and their deputies were enraged at this attitude of the National Assembly. Through threat, pressure of every kind, political trading, and pamphleteering they succeeded in having the Assembly on March 8, 1790, take the sting out of that doctrine by adopting the following resolution:

“That it was not the intention of the Assembly to interfere with the interior government of the colonies or to subject them to laws incompatible with their local establishments; they therefore authorized the inhabitants of each Colony to signify their own plan of legislation and commercial arrangement, preserving only a conformity with the principles of the mother country and a regard for the reciprocal interests of both.”

And in order to preserve the institution of slavery it was subtly added that “no innovation was intended in any system of commerce in which the colonies were already concerned.”

The mulattoes in San Domingo, immediately bringing counterpressure to bear on the Assembly through Les Amis des Noirs, had the following amendment passed:

“Immediately after the proclamation and proper posting of the decree of March 8, 1790, and of the present instruction in each parish, all persons free, who have reached 25 years of age, possessors of real estate or in default thereof, who have resided in the parish five years, paying taxes therein, shall enjoy the right of suffrage which belongs to Frenchmen, and may form themselves into a parochial assembly.”

The Colonial Assembly at San Domingo declared that this decree could apply only to the whites, according to well-established custom. In this unmistaken manner they openly rebelled against the ruling of the National Convention and flouted the aims and intentions of Les Amis des Noirs.

In an effort to stem the rising tide of disaffection in the colony, by order of the King a General Assembly was ordered to convene at the town of Léogane on March 25, 1790. The colonists in a spirit of willfulness, to show the King what they thought of his royal decrees, changed the date to April 15 and the place to Saint-Marc. On that date two hundred and thirteen members met and proposed a plan for a new constitution.

Things had reached such a state of confusion that there were now two legislative bodies in the colony, each claiming supreme political authority. In the north the Provincial Assembly functioned, while the western and southern sections together supported the pretensions of the General Assembly, cooperating in this with the governor general. Threats of civil war immediately followed this divided authority, and bloodshed was averted only by eighty-five members of the reduced General Assembly sailing for Paris, leaving behind an apparently tranquil country.

The mulattoes living in Paris were incensed at their failure to secure political recognition. Their patience—not a striking quality of men of mixed blood at any time—was exhausted. A hopeless sense of injustice clouded over them. They could still hear ringing in their ears the passionate eloquence of those who sympathized with their aims. The colonists’ direct contravention of the very spirit of the times burned in their souls. And in their hour of humiliation they eagerly recalled that the success of the Revolution proved that action can sometimes achieve in a moment what years of deliberation may not secure. They felt the situation was so tense that it needed only some little incident to set the whole island aflame.

Vincent Ogé, like a startling echo to a call, supplied the incident.

Ogé was a young mulatto who had been sent to Paris to be educated. His mother was wealthy and owned a coffee plantation in the Department of the North. He was a man of fairly good intelligence and possessed considerable influence, especially with the members of Les Amis des Noirs. He became infuriated when he learned of the attitude of the white colonists toward the decree of March 8, and when he received the news that in addition to repudiating the decree the colonists had also murdered some men of color who had attempted to vote, he resolved to return to San Domingo to remedy matters for his caste by force.

Ogé arrived at Le Cap on October 6, 1790, and landed at night, proceeding at once secretly to his mother’s plantation at Dondon. He later joined his friend Jean Baptiste Chavanne, who advised calling out the slaves so as perhaps to smash the power of the white colonists at the outset. Ogé, not equal to doing things on such a huge scale, refused, saying he preferred to stand by the law as adopted by the Assembly.

He then presented himself to the mulattoes of Dondon as their leader, and without waiting to secure cooperation from any other section of the colony, Ogé and Chavanne marched at the head of a pathetic little band of two hundred and fifty to secure justice. On the way to Grande Rivière they met a force of six hundred colonists whom they succeeded in repulsing for a while. Reenforcements, however, soon arrived, and Ogé’s followers were overwhelmed and scattered.

Ogé himself and Chavanne fled across the border into Spanish territory, but on representations from the colonists the authorities of Santo Domingo delivered them up and both were returned to Le Cap to stand trial.

After two months of horrible court proceedings which were nothing but a farce on justice, it was finally decreed that Ogé and Chavanne should be broken alive on the wheel. This frightful sentence was duly carried out, and after their death their heads were cut off and placed on poles on the crossroads leading to their respective towns. In addition to the ruthless execution of the two leaders, thirteen of their followers were imprisoned for life and twenty-two hanged.

While these events were taking place another mulatto named Lacombe forfeited his life for the crime of signing a petition to the Assembly pleading for his political rights “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” And as a further indication of public sentiment an old magistrate named Ferrand de Beaudierre, a white man, was beheaded for merely drawing up a memorial on behalf of the people of color, begging not for the right to vote, but merely for some improvement in their political condition.

These judicial massacres sent a thrill of horror over the world. Men of all classes were ashamed to think that such deeds could be committed, not by savage beasts or unenlightened black slaves, but by white members of a Christian nation. When the news of Ogé’s death reached France it started such a wave of sympathy for the mulattoes and disgust for the white colonists that many of the planters then living in Paris did not dare appear on the streets. “Perish the colonies,” cried Robespierre when he heard of Ogé’s execution, “rather than sacrifice one iota of our principles.”

The horrified reaction of the French people was largely responsible for the passage of the momentous national decree of May 15, 1791, by which it was enacted that “the people of color resident in the French colonies born of free parents were entitled to, as of right, and should be allowed the enjoyment of, all the privileges of French citizens, and among others, to having votes in the choice of representation and of being eligible to seats both in the parochial and other colonial assemblies.”

When this bombshell burst on Le Cap it created a panic. The people almost went crazy. Everybody predicted an immediate caste war. The whites swore they would never yield to the mother country’s decree, and talk of secession was heard on all sides. The national cockade was flung in the gutter and trampled on. Business was put aside. It was proposed to seize the ships in the harbor and confiscate all French goods. Le Cap, hitherto considered the most loyal of the colony’s cities, now disregarded the governor’s authority. Speech-making of a highly incendiary nature echoed from every street corner. The rivalries and bitterness of the south, west, and north died down in the unanimous sentiment of hatred for the decree of May 15. Eventually some of the saner-minded colonists gathered together and decided to appoint a new Colonial Assembly to meet on August 25 to discuss the whole miserable business thoroughly and to fix forever the political status of the men of color. But that Assembly was destined never to meet.

The mulattoes, still quivering with horrified remembrance of the torture of Ogé, had not dared to express their joy openly over the decree of May 15. They pretended to wait in passive patience the execution of the will of the National Assembly; but they frankly feared the outcome and almost openly began to collect arms.

The white colonists, so sure of their ability to handle the mulattoes with ease, kept on declaring that the recognition of mulatto rights granted by the May 15 decree would undoubtedly lead to an insurrection. As usual the petits blancs, jealous of the influence and wealth of the mulattoes, were the most bitter toward them and did everything in their power to goad them into rebellion.

The mere thought of mulattoes’ being granted political equality rendered the low-class whites speechless. To add to the general spirit of unrest, they spread rumors of riots and disorders and whenever possible acted the part of self-constituted busybodies. They went out of their way to increase public anxiety by overdoing their assumed role of guardians of public safety. They established patrols that inspected the sugar plantations, wakened the slaves in the dead of night to attend roll-call, invaded their shacks under the pretext of searching for evidence of plots, and committed all kinds of excesses in pursuing their “patriotic duty.”

These agitators perpetrated their mischievous inanities deliberately to instill an awesome fear in the hearts of the slaves. But what this dangerous meddlesomeness actually succeeded in doing was to create alarm among the blacks, who had already been astounded by the Revolution to find white men quarreling among themselves.

Ever since the fall of the Bastille any one with half an eye should have noticed symptoms of restlessness among the slaves. But the white colonists and the mulattoes were so preoccupied with their own affairs that they failed to see what was happening under their noses.

On nearly every plantation there were groups of Negroes thoroughly aware of what had been going on in the political world. The planters, without any thought of the effect, freely discussed the Revolution in front of slaves whose ears were wide open to catch every mention of those throbbing words, Liberty and Equality. Soldiers newly arrived from France gave the fraternal embrace and jovially explained to gaping black audiences the new turn of events in the mother country.

Another important factor contributing to the slaves’ uneasiness was the unforgettable shock of the Ogé affair, and if the whites’ vision had not been clouded by their preparations and intrigues against the Home Government they might have been able to see that the execution of Ogé and his followers had created a profound impression in slave circles. To the blacks, the rich mulatto Ogé was of the ruling classes, a slave-owner, a proprietor, who belonged to an educated caste hopelessly higher than their own; and it did not take long for a handful of black leaders to convince the rank and file that if this was the way the whites treated a wealthy mulatto for seeking fulfillment of political rights already bestowed on his class by the National Assembly, the sweating slaves could have no hope of receiving “rights” at such hands.

Amid the smoldering discontent of all classes, including their own, the planters, bankers, lawyers, and merchants went on leading their lives in the traditional manner, blithely ignorant that, in the words of Mirabeau, they were sleeping on the edge of a volcano.

All through the early summer, certain planters here and there noticed that their slaves seemed to be holding numerous gatherings at night. They could hear the drums echoing from the hills, and frequently they could see the gleam of torches flickering through the gloom. But when they asked what it all meant their overseers explained with a tolerant smile that the slaves were holding voodoo meetings where they danced and chanted and gave themselves up to orgies and savage superstitions which passed for religious rites with the uncouth creatures. It was nothing to bother about.

And so nobody interfered with the slaves as they kept on holding their weird night ceremonies off in the hills. It was nothing to bother about. Black drums kept on rumbling warnings to ears that would not hear. Torches kept on flashing danger signals to eyes that would not see until one night in the middle of summer the world burst into flames and Toussaint Louverture came nearer and nearer to his hour.

CHAPTER

VI

ON the night of August 14, 1791, a surging mass of Negroes obeyed the signal of the drums and made their way in silence to a voodoo meeting in the hills, directed by three of their leaders, Boukman, Biassou, and Jean-François. After a series of frenzied incantations a young pig was slaughtered, and with the ceremonial drinking of its blood vows were made and definite plans outlined for a general insurrection to take place eight days later.

Although it is more than likely that Toussaint was fully aware of what took place at this meeting, his hatred of all voodoo superstitions make it certain that he was not present; and it is still more certain that he took no active part in the ghastly holocaust that followed.

Just before dawn on the twenty-third of August a bloody glow spread a stain throughout the sky in the great North Plain that betrayed to the quaking inhabitants of Le Cap that the impossible had somehow or other come to pass—the slaves had risen and were burning the plantations. The insurrection, which showed every evidence of thorough and systematic planning, took the colonists completely by surprise.

The first of a long succession of horrors began on an estate about nine miles from the city of Le Cap under the leadership of the burly black giant Boukman, an English slave originally from Jamaica.

In the middle of the night, Boukman with a handful of his followers seized a young refinery-attendant, dragged him outside his house, and hacked him to pieces with their machetes. They then shot the overseer and the head of the sugar factory. In an orgy of savagery the Negroes set fire to every building and cane field that lay in their path as they spread like a stream of lava from plantation to plantation. Burning, slaying, torturing, the maddened hordes carried desolation with them wherever they went.

For miles and miles the countryside was in flames within a short time and everywhere mansions, buildings, factories, farmhouses, and machinery were reduced to ashes. Every white man, woman, and child the infuriated slaves could lay their hands on was murdered, tortured, outraged, or burned. The slaves in the insanity of their vengeance signalized the outbreak with unbridled ferocity.

Unheard-of tortures were devised. They took a carpenter and with barbaric irony sandwiched him between two of his wooden planks and sawed him in two. They seized one unfortunate planter and after nailing him to the entrance gates of his own estate chopped off his limbs one by one. Unprintable horrors were inflicted on the white women. Drunken mobs of slaves danced along the highways with the heads of white babies impaled on pikes, flourishing them as standards of insurrection. Unspeakable outrages, disgusting acts of brutality and viciousness, were committed on entire families before they were happily released by death.

In four days the rising grew to enormous proportions. Within three weeks after the flames had wiped out village after village, they stopped only for lack of material to lick up. A colonial planter named Carteau who was a witness of this dreadful catastrophe has left this powerful description. “Picture to yourself,” he says, “the whole horizon a wall of fire, from which continually rose thick vortices of smoke, whose huge black volumes could be likened only to those frightful storm-clouds which roll onward charged with thunder and lightnings. The rifts in these clouds disclosed flames as great in volume which rose darting and flashing to the very sky. Such was their voracity that for nearly three weeks we could barely distinguish between day and night, for so long as the rebels found anything to feed the flames, they never ceased to burn, resolved as they were to leave not a cane nor house behind. The most striking feature of this terrible spectacle was a rain of fire composed of burning cane straw which whirled thickly before the blast like flakes of snow, and which the wind carried, now toward the harbor and shipping, now over the houses of the city, plunging us in the greatest fear of its effects and wringing our hearts with an agony of grief as it disclosed the full extent of our misfortunes.”

When the inhabitants of Le Cap received first-hand information of the disaster from a handful of pallid, staggering refugees who somehow had managed to escape the vengeance of the slaves, they instantly took up arms.

The Colonial Assembly had opened its meetings on the twenty-third while the destruction was at its height. It gave the governor full command of the national guards and urged him to take immediate action to quell the revolt.

Three regiments of guards were formed and a special commission established. Reconnoitering parties were sent out, roads were guarded, defenses erected, and cannon placed in key positions. Naturally the “warfare” of the slaves was of a crude guerilla character. They never faced the whites in the open if they could avoid it and attacked frontally only when their forces greatly outnumbered the enemy. Whenever this occurred they advanced with a frightful clamor, preceded by women and children yelling like demons who hoped to instill fear in the hearts of their foes.

Whenever they captured any prisoners the whites acted just as brutally as the Negroes. Reprisals were swift and terrible. The barbarity of the uneducated blacks was more than equaled by the refined cruelty of the whites. Every prisoner taken was put to death. Every road leading from Le Cap was lined by gallows from which hung Negro bodies. If scaffolds were lacking they were suspended alive from the rungs of ladders where their captors could shoot them at their ease. The whites in their blind hatred looked on every black as an enemy and butchered innocent and guilty indiscriminately. Many among the Negroes massacred in this manner were slaves who at the risk of their own lives had saved their masters, their wives and children, when the slaughter of the whites was at its height.

A Negro named Bartolo hid his master from his fellow avengers when the outbreak began and with great difficulty spirited him away in disguise to the gates of Le Cap. Later on this same Bartolo was denounced for having taken part in the rising, betrayed by the master he risked his life to save.

In an attempt to stem the rising black tide a detachment of 4000 troops marched boldly to attack the rebels but met with little success. What could a handful of men hope to achieve against a solid mass of almost a hundred thousand slaves, insane with memories of bloody cruelties and delirious with unnamable hopes? They knew that no mercy awaited them if captured, and this produced in them a courage born of despair. Vengeance spurred them on. They knew nothing of the civilized laws of warfare. They were slaves, not bound by any laws. They were slaves, without rights or privileges. They were slaves, fighting for a liberty that no one had ever dreamed of granting them—not free people contending for existing rights.

Without in any way attempting to justify or excuse the incredible savagery of the slaves during this miserable period, Brissot in an address before the National Assembly drew attention to the fact that “it was a white man who first plunged a Negro into a burning oven, who dashed out the brains of a child in its father’s presence, who fed a slave with his own flesh, and who applied the lash to an expectant mother. These are the monsters that have to account for the barbarity of risen slaves.”

Meanwhile the atrocities continued, and the Colonial Assembly complained of the governor’s apathy and lack of action. Goaded by these criticisms, an expedition of 1200 men was set in motion, and in one of these attacks the insurgents were chased from their position and Boukman killed. His head was stuck on a pike and exhibited at Le Cap as a trophy. On the death of Boukman the leadership of the slaves passed to Jeannot, Jean-François, and Biassou. Jeannot turned out to be nothing but a savage animal and of such uncontrollable violence that for the protection of their own cause the slaves had him executed. Jean-François then assumed command in conjunction with Biassou and bestowed on himself the pompous title of generalissimo while his co-leader, blissfully unaware of the meaning of the words, soothed his pride with the position of high admiral.

“To detail the various conflicts, skirmishes, massacres, and scenes of slaughter which this exterminating war produced were to offer a disgusting and frightful picture,” says Bryan Edwards, who arrived at Le Cap while the rising was in progress. “It is computed that within two months after the revolt first began more than 2000 whites had been massacred, 180 sugar plantations and about 900 coffee, cotton, and indigo settlements had been destroyed; 1200 Christian families reduced from opulence to such a state of misery as to depend for food and clothing on charity. Of the insurgents it was reckoned that more than 10,000 perished by sword and famine; some hundreds more at the hands of the executioner, many on the wheel in a system of revenge and retaliation which no enormities of savage life could justify or excuse!”

The loss in property was estimated at over $2,000,000.

The insurrection appeared to have been planned with such intelligent foresight and thoroughness that from the very first moment of the outbreak the mulattoes were suspected of being the brains behind the movement. In consequence, at a time when mere suspicion meant complete conviction, the unfortunate sangs-mêlés were hunted down and assassinated right and left in the streets of Le Cap.

Whether this accusation had any foundation in truth or not, as far as the north was concerned, was never actually proved, but it soon became evident that when the rebellion spread to the western division of San Domingo the insurgents were chiefly mulattoes! Over 2000 of them rose in arms in the parish of Mirebalais. Here they were joined by 600 Negroes, and together they began burning coffee plantations, spreading terror and destruction throughout the whole Cul-de-Sac territory. Small detachments of national guards sent against them were repulsed and scattered.

The rebels even went so far as to approach Port-au-Prince and announced their intention of setting it on fire. At the critical moment, however, when the city’s destruction seemed inevitable, the mulatto leaders refused to cooperate with the blacks. They took pains to let the white colonists know that they had taken up arms not through any desire to befriend the slaves but solely to support the national decree of May 15 which declared that “people of color born of free parents should be considered as active citizens and be eligible to government office.”

When the planters received this declaration they instantly effected a truce with the mulattoes, agreeing to bury the past and to permit the decree’s immediate operation. Inspired by these informal proceedings at Port-au-Prince, the Assembly at Le Cap also agreed to oppose the decree no longer. In fact, in their desire to gain the much-needed support of the mulattoes and wean them entirely from the slaves’ cause, the whites even went further than the original decree called for and agreed to bestow rights on free people of color even though born of enslaved parents!

If these concessions had been offered before the revolt of the slaves they probably would have prevented even a temporary alliance between the mulattoes and the Negroes, but it was too late now to stem the tide. The pride of the mulattoes had been too deeply wounded to be soothed by the colonists’ belated overtures. The waves of vengeance were only calmed for the moment and before long were again destined to overrun the unhappy land and plunge it still further into despair.

Many writers have discussed at length the reasons for this rising of 1791. Some conclude that the influence of the French Revolution inflamed the Negroes to rebel against constituted authority. Other chroniclers of the time attribute the outbreak to the plottings of Les Amis des Noirs and particularly to the exciting effect of an open letter written by Abbé Grégoire to the Negroes. Certain students feel sure that the Ogé affair inspired the blacks to turn on their masters. Others blame the conduct of persons newly arrived in San Domingo after the taking of the Bastille. These men “gave the fraternal embrace to all the Negroes and mulattoes whom they met, telling them that the National Assembly had declared them free and the equals of the whites.” It has also been stated that the factional quarrels of the colonists themselves set a terrible example to the blacks and prompted them to take advantage of these divisions. The intrigues of Royalists, Spaniards, religious zealots, and others have also been denounced as the sole cause of the rebellion.

It apparently did not occur to any of these astute investigators that perhaps the main reason why the slaves rose against their owners was that they wished to be free!

CHAPTER

VII

AT the time of the insurrection of the slaves Toussaint Louverture was over forty-eight years of age. Although he knew of the intended explosion and had received numerous invitations to play a leading part, he resolutely refused. The prospect of an orgy of terrorism, pillage, and murder had little appeal for such a man.

Even General Lacroix, who bore no love for Toussaint, admits that “the fanaticism which characterized the Negro outburst had not found him disposed to take part in the rising.” He had no wish to share in the inevitable barbarity of such an undertaking and foresaw that in the first stages the lust for vengeance would cause the innocent and kindly to suffer equally with the guilty and inhuman.

Other considerations which prompted Toussaint to remain aloof from Boukman’s revolt were gratitude to his master Bayou de Libertas and affection for his family. During the whole of that first bloody month Toussaint placed himself at the head of all the slaves on the plantation, persuaded them to remain faithful, and at great personal risk saved the cane fields from being destroyed by the infuriated mobs. At a time when the sight of a white skin on a plantation meant death or worse to its owner, Madame de Libertas remained in perfect safety under Toussaint’s protection while her husband was in a military camp several miles away.

It was with a heavy heart that Toussaint witnessed the bloodthirsty madness of the first month of the outbreak. Completely exhausted by the terrific hardships of his responsibility and hour by hour finding it increasingly difficult to hold his men from joining the rebels’ ranks, Toussaint at last persuaded Madame de Libertas to escape to the city of Le Cap. In her husband’s absence he himself got her carriage ready, filled it with her dearest possessions, provided her with an escort to Le Cap, and later on helped the whole family to reach the United States.

When this had been accomplished resistance to the course of events was no longer possible. Gathering all the Bréda slaves together, Toussaint joined the insurrection, adding himself and his followers to the bands organized by Jean-François and Biassou.

At first both these leaders were inclined to be a little suspicious of Toussaint for his long delay in joining. They soon let him know that they looked on his fidelity to the family of his master as infidelity to the Negro cause, and although both Jean-François and Biassou recognized Toussaint’s superior intelligence, they refused to give him a military position and in this manner made him aware of their disapproval of his humane conduct.

Toussaint was commanded to take charge of all the wounded and put into practice whatever knowledge of simples he was supposed to possess. It was not long, however, before the multiplying problems of the campaign made it necessary to take advantage of all the talent available. Toussaint was hauled out of his “medical” obscurity, made aide-de-camp to Biassou, and created a brigadier general.

It was certainly a tatterdemalion army in which Toussaint found himself a high officer. Those of the slaves who were dressed at all wore the clothes of their former masters whose homes they had plundered. Most of them were almost naked and as devoid of military uniform as they were of military experience. The cavalry were mounted on draught horses and mules whose recent duties had been to pull wagons around the sugar plantations.

Jean-François, having adorned his person with some stolen ribbons and decorations, bestowed on himself the joint titles of admiral and generalissimo, to be in keeping with his regal appearance. Later on Biassou, not to be outdone by his fellow leader, assumed the modest title of “viceroy of the conquered territories,” while as many officers as possible called themselves marshals, commanders, generals, and colonels. An unambitious handful were content to be known merely as captains.

As if to make up for the lack of military experience, an iron discipline was maintained. The utmost severity was needed to keep a band of suddenly liberated and avenging slaves in anything like military order. Any form of disobedience was cruelly punished. Tortures and executions were numerous. In view of these conditions it is not surprising to learn that the leaders of the insurrection were not always in accord. The savage brutality of officers and men disgusted Toussaint.

In the meantime the white colonists, although of course much better clothed and armed than the blacks, were also in a state of constant dissension and discord. Disorder continued to increase. Internal bickerings multiplied. Concerted action seemed impossible. In an attempt to end this horrible state of chaos a new assembly of planters was convened at Le Cap, and their first act was to ignore the government of the mother country (to whose insidious doctrine of equality they attributed all their woes) and to apply to Great Britain for protection. By unanimous consent they sent the following despatch to Lord Effingham, Governor of Jamaica:

“The General Assembly of the French part of San Domingo, deeply affected by the calamities which desolate it, has resolved to send a deputation to your Excellency, in order to place before you a picture of the misfortunes which have fallen on this beautiful island; fire lays waste our possessions, the hands of our Negroes in arms are already dyed with the blood of our brethren. Very prompt assistance is necessary to save the wreck of our fortunes—already half destroyed; and confined within the towns we look for your aid.”

Even before they had had time to receive a reply the General Assembly, with supreme confidence in the outcome, decked out their troops with round English hats and black cockades, casting aside their own national colors with contempt. Alas, however, for their hopes! Lord Effingham’s answer sadly disappointed the colonists. All the cautious British official was able to do for them, he said, was to donate 500 muskets and a few rounds of ammunition and to order a small warship to cruise along the western coast.

Meanwhile, by a queer anomaly, the Negroes ranked themselves on the side of royalty, and at the very moment when the white colonists proudly flourished English colors the slaves displayed their white standard, reading on one side “Vive le Roi” and on the other “L’ancien Régime.”

This unexpected assumption of the royal cause by the blacks amazed the planters. They thought they saw in it the influence of the counter-revolutionary party in France who had cleverly spread the news among the Negroes that Louis XVI’s life had been endangered by the whites because he had resolved to free the slaves.

And so chaos, terror, and despair reigned in San Domingo. Prospects of peace seemed hopeless. First one side and then the other appeared to prevail, while the presence of large bodies of mulattoes, ever ready to assist whichever party seemed to offer them the greater advantage, did not add to the general harmony. To list the foul accomplishments of all sides would be merely a tedious, confused, futile performance.

At this period Toussaint and the other leaders would have sincerely welcomed any attempts at negotiation.

As if in answer to prayer a civil commission composed of three men, Roume, Mirbeck, and Saint-Leger, arrived at Le Cap from France, charged with the duty of reestablishing order and peace in the colony.

Of these three, Mirbeck was a wordy lawyer and entirely unfitted for any kind of delicate negotiation; Saint-Leger, who for a long time had been a colonial physician, soon showed a disposition to be purchasable, while Roume, although honest and straightforward, proved lacking in character and rather dictatorial. On arriving at Le Cap the three commissioners were shocked at the terrible conditions, as no word of the Negro rising had reached Paris before they sailed. One of their first acts was to issue a proclamation announcing that large military forces were already on their way from France to restore order in the colony. This news was speedily relayed to Jean-François, Biassou, and Toussaint and produced precisely the effect the commissioners had intended. In fact it reached them at a time when the sufferings and privations they were undergoing made them regard the immediate future with despair.

Taking advantage of the situation, the Negro leaders sent one of their white prisoners with a flag of truce to the authorities at Le Cap to express a desire for peace and to offer to submit under the following conditions: “General amnesty for all past offenses; legal and complete freedom for a certain number of revolted slaves; abolition of corporal punishment, and the concession of three days a week for slaves to work for themselves.”

Receiving no response from the Assembly, the Negro chiefs directed two freed men to take a second message to Le Cap. These men were received with haughty contempt, and after the Assembly had made them submit to a lengthy cross-examination they were told that a reply would be sent them within ten days. When it came it was addressed to the “Emissaries of Revolting Negroes” and read as follows:

“Listen to the intentions of the Colonial Assembly. The Assembly founded in law and by law cannot hold communications with people armed against the law, all laws. The Assembly would be willing to exercise lenience toward culpable persons who were repentant and returning to duty. It will not exact anything from those who have been drawn into the revolt against their will. The Assembly will always know how to mete out leniency as well as justice. Withdraw!”

This reply provoked nothing but bitterness and hopelessness among the Negroes. In fact Biassou was so enraged that he threatened to put every white prisoner to death, and it was only owing to Toussaint that a wholesale massacre did not take place.

In the meantime the three commissioners, in a more conciliatory mood than the Assembly, proposed a personal conference with the insurgent chiefs. This took place on December 21, but as Jean-François prepared to get down from his horse one of the delegates from the Colonial Assembly, in a sudden fury, struck him with his riding-crop. Dumfounded by this attack, Jean-François, thinking he had fallen into a trap, was about to leave the conference when Saint-Leger restored his confidence by hurrying to him with an apology for the insult. In spite of all that had taken place since the original rising of the slaves, the prestige of a white face to Negro eyes was still so powerful that Jean-François, quite overcome at Saint-Leger’s courtesy, cast himself at his feet.

The conference from then on continued amicably. An understanding was arrived at, granting certain liberties to the Negro leaders; an exchange of prisoners was agreed on, and the return of slaves to the plantations arranged. Unfortunately the colonists refused to indorse this program of the commissioners, and hostilities were again resumed, with increased severity. There was a repetion of all the horrors already familiar for several months. Acts of an atrocious character were committed by both sides in a fury of bestiality.

On all sides was nothing but disorder, ruin, and despair. The colonists, contemptuous of the pacifist tendencies of the commissioners, openly flouted their authority and killed all chance of further negotiations with the Negroes.

Meanwhile Jean-François and Biassou, who had not been too amicable toward each other, now arrived at a point where further cooperation became impossible. They split into two camps, each carrying his own followers with him. Toussaint, as aide-de-camp to Biassou, was made to feel the antagonism of Jean-François, but as far as he was able he disregarded the personal nature of their quarrel and went on quietly performing his own duties.

For some time Toussaint had been gradually gaining the respect of the whole black army by the force of his character, natural attainments, and prodigious capacity for work. Little by little, slowly but surely, he had been laying foundations for the overwhelming influence he was shortly to exercise on every Negro in the colony and on the course of Negro history.

In the meantime the hopeless state of anarchy into which the colony was drifting was responsible for an avalanche of frantic appeals to the mother country. Piteous letters, lengthy petitions, and pleading dispatches poured into France from the white colonists, only to remain unanswered.

The effect of this apparent indifference on the majority of the wretched planters may easily be imagined. And yet some of the more enlightened members of the Colonial Assembly wondered if perhaps no communications from the mother country might not be preferable to the multiplicity of conflicting orders they had been receiving for the past three or four years. Their hopes had been so often disabused that their confidence in the home government’s ability to help them had sunk to the depths. So many decrees had come from France in a medley of confusion, each one contradicting its predecessor. Laws that canceled each other had followed in swift succession, piling agony on agony. The joy of one class raised to the heights by one vessel’s dispatches would be turned into gloom by some new amendment sent a few days later.

And yet an even worse blow than any yet received from France was in store for the white colonists.

On April 4, 1792, the National Assembly at Paris induced Louis XVI to sign a decree declaring that the people of color and all free Negroes in the colonies should enjoy equality of political rights with the whites!

When the news of this law reached the colony it acted on the whites with deadening effect. To them it spelled the final ruin of the unhappy country and the end of white supremacy. But while the whites were filled with gloom the delight of the mulattoes knew no bounds, particularly as they soon saw that the morale of the colonists had sunk too low to offer much resistance.

“Behold then,” writes a mulatto leader, “the decree which finally settles our political status, so long disputed by abominable prejudice.”

In the midst of mulatto rejoicing, Toussaint and the other Negro leaders were not slow to discern the significant fact that the new law made no provision whatever for the slaves. They merely strengthened their defenses, realized anew their Ishmaelite isolation, and said nothing.

A few months later three new French commissioners and 6000 troops entered the harbor of Le Cap to see that the Law of April 4 was carried out. These three men were Polverel, Sonthonax, and Ailhaud—all enthusiastic Jacobins. Polverel, sincere and honest, was easily the best of the trio. Sonthonax was an opportunist lawyer fond of oratory and not too scrupulous either in or out of office. Ailhaud might just as well have remained home for all the good he did as a commissioner.

The arrival of this trio, however, did not have the immediate effect of ending hostilities. The conflict continued as bitterly as ever, particularly as the commissioners, almost as soon as they arrived, began to stir up trouble between the low-class whites and the ruling class. Then they took it on themselves to dissolve the Colonial Assembly and set up a sort of advisory council of their own, to which five mulattoes and one free Negro were appointed. As a sort of counterirritant to these Jacobin activities a Royalist plot reared its head in Le Cap; this, although it ended in an almost complete fiasco, certainly did not help in the restoration of peace.

Then there was the affaire Galbaud to add to the distracted confusion of affairs—if that were possible. General Galbaud was sent out to San Domingo as governor general, and the French authorities gave him a free hand in all purely military affairs. Only in the realm of politics was he to recognize the authority of the three commissioners.

When Galbaud arrived at Le Cap he found an appalling condition—empty arsenals, dilapidated barracks, and an almost complete lack of discipline among the unpaid, unhappy soldiers. In addition he found that the commissioners had replaced white officers with mulattoes throughout the west and south.

The new governor was hailed with such enthusiasm at Le Cap that it excited the jealousy of the commissioners, and they immediately set to work to thwart this popular rival.

Shortly after Galbaud’s landing the commissioners returned to Le Cap from the west and south, accompanied by a large body of mulatto troops. They informed Galbaud of their having discovered that he had plantation interests in the colony which made him ineligible for his position and said that he must resign and return to France.

General Galbaud, wishing to avert any possible bloodshed, submitted and went on board a vessel in the harbor.

This swift triumph of the commissioners was too much for the equilibrium of their mulatto followers. They began to lord it over the white population and treat them as a conquered people. Unfortunately they insulted a body of sailors who instantly retaliated. Riot and murder followed. Trouble spread. General Galbaud’s brother placed himself at the head of a mob of sailors who vowed vengeance. General Galbaud himself, just as he was about to sail, changed his mind and landed next day at the head of 2000 men. The struggle was on.

The commissioners’ troops, white and mulatto, began a fusillade in the streets, while the regulars joined the Galbaud faction. The white civilians attacked the commissioners’ soldiers, while the mulattoes sided with them. The confusion was endless.

By dusk it was apparent that Galbaud’s men were gaining the victory, and the next day they forced the commissioners to flee from the city.

Galbaud’s victory was of short duration. Just before the commissioners fled they opened the gates to the Negroes camped in the great North Plain, and black mobs of yelling wild men poured into Le Cap pillaging and plundering as they went. Against these black clouds Galbaud and his men were helpless. He instantly took ship, and with a fleet packed with thousands of his desperate followers, he sailed for the United States.

By night the whole city of Le Cap was ablaze. On all sides the flames revealed shocking evidences of the most ghastly carnage and ruin. Anarchy took possession of the maddened populace. In their bloody insanity men gave themselves up to promiscuous fighting without bothering about party lines. White men slaughtered white men indiscriminately, and this species of frightfulness did more than anything else to destroy forever the awe and fear the Negroes had for centuries felt for their white masters.

The commissioners retired from the smoking ruins to the neighboring hills, where they established a temporary retreat. Having lost all chance of reconciling themselves with the white colonists and realizing that they would be unable to conquer them without the aid of the Negroes, the commissioners on June 22, 1792, proclaimed the freedom of all slaves who would enroll themselves under their banner. Queerly enough, when this declaration of general freedom was made the commissioners themselves were anything but free!

As far as Toussaint, Jean-François, and Biassou were concerned, this generous offer of freedom came a little too late. They promptly refused it in a special appeal informing the commissioners that they would never deal with men whose authority they denied. They further stated that having always fought for the rights of the king, they would continue to uphold the Bourbons to the last drop of their blood.

Toussaint, accustomed since his birth to a profound reverence for the monarchical idea, had been very much upset by the course of events following the outbreak of the French Revolution; and he both feared and mistrusted republicanism on its own record. At that time the divine right of kings, to Toussaint, was a sacred thing that admitted of no opposition. He was also convinced that the commissioners’ eleventh-hour proclamation of freedom was merely a subterfuge to gather all the Negroes in one fold and then permit the planters to reenslave them. In any case, when the commissioners’ overtures were made to Toussaint, Jean-François, and Biassou it was too late! They were no longer living under the French flag.

In March, 1793, Louis XVI was beheaded, and the news hit Toussaint and the other black leaders like a thunderbolt. To them it was as if the heavens had fallen. They could not comprehend what manner of white men the French Revolutionists could be, to dare lay hands on the sacred person of their king. The instant proof reached them that Louis XVI had perished on the scaffold, Toussaint and his fellow leaders gave up all hope of ever securing liberty through negotiation with their republican enemies. They passed over to Santo Domingo and entered the service of Charles IV of Spain, who had just declared war on France.

Jean-François was given a commission as lieutenant general. Biassou became one of his brigadiers, and Toussaint received the same distinction at the hands of the delighted Spaniards, who expressly promised all the Negroes who joined them “liberty, exemptions, and the enjoyment of privileges.” Toussaint’s star had at last gone into the ascendant.

CHAPTER

VIII

TOUSSAINT had several reasons for joining the Spanish. In the first place he thoroughly distrusted the republican authorities. In his eyes they were merely the tools of the white colonists, who would never permit them to sanction the freedom the slaves had already secured for themselves.

Secondly, Toussaint welcomed the opportunity to serve a king against the enemies of royalty.

Thirdly, the promises of liberty that the Spanish had made to the Negro leaders convinced Toussaint that by aiding the King of Spain he would be helping his own people. The hope of securing complete freedom for his race was Toussaint’s underlying motive for going over to Spain, and this is clearly shown by the following letter, which was written shortly after he received his commission:

“Brothers and Friends:

“I am Toussaint Louverture; my name is perhaps known to you. I have undertaken to avenge your wrongs. It is my desire that liberty and equality shall reign in San Domingo. I am striving to this end. Come and unite with us, brothers, and fight with us for the same cause.

“TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE”

TEMPLE ERECTED AT LE CAP BY THE NEGROES TO COMMEMORATE THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY

From an old print

When Toussaint threw in his lot with the Spanish he took advantage of every opportunity to put himself in touch with their officers. He was more than eager to learn some of the accepted methods of civilized warfare. He realized only too well that the guerilla skirmishes, attacks, and flights that he had been engaged in were the crudest kind of military tactics and that from now on European standards between equals would be maintained.

Toussaint did not come to the Spaniards empty-handed. He already commanded a body of 600 well-armed Negroes absolutely devoted to him, ready to do anything and everything their idolized leader ordered.

Toussaint placed himself under the direct command of the Spanish general, the Marquis d’Hermona, as a semi-independent and was not in any way subordinate to Jean-François or Biassou. Toussaint’s progress was rapid within the next few months. He displayed such an ability for leadership in the field and acted with such tact and diplomacy that many of the regular French troops who had fled to Spanish territory after the destruction of Le Cap agreed to join him as officers and to give his men a thorough military training.

From the very beginning Toussaint achieved numerous brilliant successes, and what seemed even more remarkable to the Spaniards, he proved that his humanity was as unusual as his ability.

His reputation as a commander increased with every exploit, and it was not long before his 600 men had become 4000—beyond question the best-disciplined, best-trained, and best-cared-for soldiers in the Spanish army.

One of Toussaint’s first opportunities took place near Dondon. A body of 1500 republican white troops, aided by a mob of hundreds of blacks and mulattoes, were camped near there. This French force was a constant threat to the Spaniards, as it was much too close to the Marquis d’Hermona’s headquarters at Saint-Raphael for their liking.

Toussaint undertook to rout it. With a band of only 600 men he boldly marched to Dondon and cut off the enemy’s lines of communication with Le Cap. The French commander, not thinking that Toussaint’s men were waiting for him, that same night rode directly into the trap with a handful of officers, leaving the main body of his troops behind him. Toussaint captured them all.

Much to their surprise the black leader treated his prisoners with the utmost courtesy and begged the French captain to send word to his remaining troops to surrender, as escape was hopeless. That officer proudly replied that although he was a prisoner his men were not, and that honor required them to fight and die if necessary. Toussaint answered, “I admire your courage but I will admire your humanity still more if you give orders to your men to surrender. All retreat is cut off, and you will only be giving an order to shed blood uselessly if you don’t send word to lay down their arms.”

The Frenchman, taken off his feet by this surprising consideration from an ex-slave, did as Toussaint suggested.

This success gave the black leader enormous confidence in himself. He next made plans to conquer Marmelade, Ennery, Plaisance, and Gonaïves. He began by carrying the district of Marmelade by a swift assault against the republican mulatto, Colonel Vernet, and compelled him to retire to Ennery. When the French Commissioner Polverel heard of Vernet’s defeat he was beside himself with rage.

“How many troops did you have?” he stormed.

“Twelve hundred men,” answered Vernet.

“Twelve hundred cowards, you mean,” yelled Polverel.

As the outcome of this little chat Vernet immediately joined Toussaint’s forces.

After capturing Ennery and several strong republican camps, Toussaint moved like lightning on Plaisance and Gonaïves and took them both in brilliant fashion.

After these whirlwind successes Toussaint returned to Spanish headquarters at Saint Raphael, where the delighted Marquis d’Hermona received him with signal honors. He appointed him lieutenant general, presented him with a jeweled sword, and decorated him in the name of King Charles.

The Spanish had every reason for heaping distinctions on Toussaint. Largely through his successes, they were soon able to push the French farther and farther back. It was not long before they secured possession of a large part of the south and the whole north of the island.

A terribly complicated situation existed at this time, and to avoid confusion it may be well to note the three principal groups contending so bitterly with each other.

To begin with, there were the white irreconcilables. These were the remnants of les grands blancs, the old aristocracy, the planters, officials, and merchants who had comprised the former Colonial Assembly. They were so anxious to preserve slavery and to restore their own former glory that negotiations were opened with England to come and take possession of the island.

Second, there were the Civil Commissioners and their followers, sworn to support republican France and the new revolutionary doctrines. In their army the bulk of the free men of color had enrolled, while French and native soldiers fraternized under colored officers.

Third and last, and of increasing importance, there were Toussaint and his men now in the service of Spain and making life exceedingly difficult for the other two camps.

No situation could have been more complex. White republicans of France arrayed against white colonists! Ex-slaves against mulattoes! And all against each other! Divided authority, bitter hostility, and endless confusion. Injured men seeking redress from others equally despairing. Spanish royalty furthering its own secret plans by fostering rebellion and pretending sympathy with the Negroes. War raging on all sides, with no possible result other than general oblivion. Chaos seemed inevitable.

And yet, as if to prove that no situation can be so complicated as to prevent its becoming more so, the English, taking advantage of the planters’ offer to surrender the island to them, suddenly arrived and joined forces with the Spanish!

When the colonists invited the English to San Domingo they did so in the hope that the English (who were not only monarchists but also slave-owners themselves) would quickly wipe out the effect of the French Revolution in the colony and put the blacks once more in their place. England’s secret intentions went even further than this.

By prearrangement the British landed a small force at an insignificant settlement called Jérémie at the extreme end of the southern peninsula. The surrounding parishes instantly surrendered, although the town of Aux Cayes, under a remarkably able mulatto officer named André Rigaud,[1] retained its freedom.

The arrival of the British seemed to be the final straw for the commissioners and their weakening republican supporters. Their resistance was slight in view of the combined Spanish and English forces, now greatly increased by miscellaneous bodies of disaffected mulattoes. With the assistance of English warships the allies captured several important towns, among them Môle-Saint-Nicolas, Saint-Marc, and Léogane. Before long they were masters of the whole western coast with the sole exception of Port-au-Prince.

In the north the republican troops under the brave French General Laveaux held out gallantly at Port-de-Paix, an important town which the British were most anxious to capture. Laveaux was besieged by the Spaniards by land, while the British cut off all his supplies by sea.

“For more than six months,” says a letter from Laveaux, “we have been reduced to six ounces of bread a day, officers as well as men.... If we had powder we should be consoled. Our misery is truly great. We have neither shoes, shirts, clothes, soap, nor tobacco. The majority of our soldiers mount guard barefooted. We have not even a flint to give the men. Notwithstanding all this we will never surrender.”

The English Commander Whitelocke, thoroughly annoyed by this unexpected stand, attempted to bribe Laveaux into submission. He sent a messenger to him under a flag of truce with an offer of $25,000 if he would surrender. Laveaux, white with anger, treated the offer with contempt. He not only sent a personal challenge to Whitelocke for insulting him but also informed the messenger that if the contents of the letter he was carrying had been known to him before he presented it, he would have had him shot.

Meanwhile the arrival of the English and their alliance with the Spanish completely upset Toussaint. The thought of the English having a hand in San Domingo’s troubles sickened him. Toussaint felt sure that although the English had been invited ostensibly to restore order and prosperity, the real reason they were there was to help the whites and their mulatto allies bring back slavery. His reasoning was only too correct. The intention to reestablish slavery was actually included in the planters’ terms of surrender, which they drew up and handed to the English.

From the moment the British landed Toussaint’s attitude toward the situation in which he found himself underwent a complete change. His misgivings were doubled when news came that the English, having received heavy reenforcements from Jamaica, had captured the most important city of the south, Port-au-Prince. By this they secured 130 pieces of heavy artillery and a vast quantity of stores. They also took possession of all the merchant shipping in the harbor, valued at $2,000,000.

The fall of Port-au-Prince opened the way for the English to become masters of a great number of smaller towns and an enormous extent of unsettled country. The taking of this stronghold and its unhappy consequences to the republican cause compelled the civil commissioners to flee farther south to Jacmel, where they began making preparations to return to France.

Toussaint witnessed this latest success of the British with a sinking heart. To him the future of Negro freedom looked anything but bright. At this time he was beyond question the most powerful officer the Spanish army possessed in the whole island. In fact Toussaint’s forces might also be regarded as the Spanish army. All the Spanish authorities did was to furnish arms and ammunition. It was Toussaint who supplied the victories. As a Spanish officer he now saw himself an ally of the slaveowning English and consequently also an ally of the proslavery planters who had delivered up the colony to them.

The alliance with the English opened Toussaint’s eyes. Then he saw that what Spain wanted him for was to take vengeance on France, not to forward the cause of Negro freedom. Her aims were therefore entirely contrary to his, and when Toussaint learned that the national government at Paris had decreed on February 4, 1794, not only that San Domingo was an integral part of France but that slavery in all French colonies was to be abolished forever, he found himself in the horrible dilemma of fighting on the side of those whose principles he hated against those whose ideals were now similar to his own. Toussaint made up his mind to rejoin the flag under which he was born.

At almost the very moment when Toussaint came to this decision, General Laveaux was making preparations for a last stand against the English and Spanish at Port-de-Paix. Just when the hopes of the half-starved garrison were at their lowest, General Laveaux was overcome with joy to receive word privately that Toussaint would welcome a rapprochement. Like a prisoner who had suddenly received a pardon, Laveaux wrote to Toussaint and begged him to leave the Spanish and join the French. He reminded Toussaint that as the French government had now officially abolished slavery, it was the duty of all citizens to uphold this decree.

Negotiations were opened and speedily brought to a satisfactory conclusion. On May 6, 1794, Toussaint raised the republican flag and at the head of 4000 picked troops led the way over to the French lines.

The astonishment of the Spanish leaders when they heard of Toussaint’s desertion may be left to the imagination. The surprise of the dejected commissioners was just as great. They were about to sail for France when they heard of this amazing turn of fortune. Their despair was transformed into delight. They expressed their emotions in a letter written to Toussaint when they learned of his return to the fold.

“You cannot imagine our joy,” they wrote, “at such glad tidings. We had long believed those Africans allied with the Spaniards and Royalists as lost to the Republic; but now that the brave Toussaint has come under its banner, now that he is finally disabused of his errors, we hope to see all the Africans of the north imitate his generous repentance and defend their liberty by fighting for France. . . . Remember that the distinctions of color are no more: that a Negro is as good as a white man; a white as good as a black.”

Unfortunately for the peace of San Domingo, there were still too many men who did not agree with the last two sentences of this letter.

Toussaint’s desertion of the Spanish brought down a torrent of violent criticism on his head. He was accused of ingratitude, duplicity, and treachery. The Spaniards believed that Toussaint had had this coup in mind from the day he accepted service with them. It was impossible to convince them that the real reason for Toussaint’s desertion was the same as for his having originally joined them—the abolition of slavery. Anything that would help bring that about was not only justifiable but a devout duty.

The Spanish forces became badly disorganized when Toussaint left. There was no one to take his place, and within fifteen days the Spanish had to give up every inch of the territory they had gained in the north.

Jean-François and Biassou undertook a counteroffensive for the Spanish against Toussaint, but he easily defeated them one after the other at Saint-Michel and Dondon.

The resistance of the Spanish was entirely broken after these engagements. Their dazed condition gave Toussaint the opportunity he needed to begin action against the English in the west. After the capture of Port-au-Prince the British had begun to settle down and consolidate that victory when an epidemic of yellow fever broke out among them; in two months it carried off 700 men. This loss, together with a large number of soldiers incapacitated by sickness, made it impossible for the English to continue the campaign so successfully begun.

This slackening up gave Rigaud, the mulatto leader, time to stiffen the resistance against them in the south while Toussaint became active in the north.

By the end of the year Toussaint had driven the Spanish out of the north and the English from the west, while Rigaud, his ally, who later on became his implacable enemy, had captured the important town of Léogane. Incidentally, Toussaint had been quietly increasing his power among the Negroes. He built up an army of trained soldiers, not only thoroughly equipped and physically capable, but also inspired by a fierce loyalty. Every man who fought under Toussaint knew that he was fighting for freedom, and every section of the country which he again brought under the French flag gladly accepted Toussaint’s authority.

After losing all their conquered territory the Spanish began peace negotiations with the French. This left Toussaint free to give all his attention to the English, who were already feeling the pressure of his attacks. The British government, apparently not appreciating the precarious position of their troops in San Domingo, had not backed them up very ably. Less than 2000 men had arrived to reenforce the little English army, badly depleted by losses in the field and wasted by yellow fever. They had, however, built numerous strong forts throughout the west in well-selected positions, which permitted them to remain at least stubbornly defensive, if not actively offensive.

Then came news that Spain’s peace negotiations with France were completed and the Treaty of Basel signed. Included in the terms was the stipulation that Spain was to give up her portion of the island to France. One result of this was that it automatically released the Negro bands under Jean-François and Biassou from further fighting. Jean-François immediately sailed for Spain, where he was granted a title, heaped with honors, and allowed to spend the remainder of his life exercising his unusual gifts for dissipation. Biassou faded from the picture and was never heard of again.

The same ship that brought news of the treaty also carried a decree from the National Convention in France which declared that the noble defenders of San Domingo had earned the thanks of the mother country and that Laveaux was to be promoted general of division, while Toussaint, the black, and Rigaud and Villatte, the mulattoes, were to be made generals of brigade.

When the terms of the Treaty of Basel became known the British made up their mind to prosecute the war in San Domingo a little more earnestly. In October in a determined effort to revive their drooping cause the government dispatched General Howe with 7000 men. If such a force had been landed a year or two earlier the entire subjugation of the island would have been a simple matter. But unfortunately for English hopes, Howe and his men arrived too late to muddle through.

The wild, mountainous character of the country they were fighting over, the immensity of their transportation difficulties, and the added handicap that the men were not accustomed to the sapping effects of a tropical climate, made the campaign a hellish business for the British. Day by day their enthusiasm for the undertaking was sweated out of them.

With the Spaniards out of the field everything seemed favorable for a concerted attack on the English when there arose another of those internal cataclysms that were constantly shaking the colony’s existence. Trouble broke out between the mulattoes and Negroes.

In the south, where the mulattoes were in power, General Rigaud ruled with anything but a velvet hand. In the west and north the blacks were in command, wherever the English were not intrenched, and just so long as the invaders threatened the island the bitterness between the two colored castes had been put aside. Now that the Treaty of Basel and the weakness of the English granted the blacks and the mulattoes a breathing-spell, the explosion took place.

The rise of Toussaint, a Negro, and the friendship General Laveaux had shown him, excited the insane jealousy of the mulatto General Rigaud, who was quick to realize that Toussaint alone stood between him and complete dominion over the blacks. Rigaud knew that although the Negroes outnumbered the mulatto forces they were on the whole inferior in intelligence and organization. He showed his violent hatred for the blacks wherever he succeeded in gaining a footing. In the territory over which he ruled, he reduced them again to slavery and subjected both whites and blacks to a tyranny more severe than under the old régime. Then, not satisfied with his supremacy in the south, Rigaud cast his eyes on his mulatto compatriots in the north.

He sent one of his followers named Pinchinat to Le Cap to see what he could do to stir up the gens de couleur against the Negroes. Conditions there were so tense and confused that Pinchinat found the situation ideal for his purpose.

A mulatto named Villatte had been given the military command of Le Cap when General Laveaux during his campaign against the Spanish had decided to make his defensive headquarters at Port-de-Paix. When Laveaux returned to Le Cap he found that Villatte had been so long in supreme command that he could not see why he should obey orders from any one.

Villatte had also, during his long tenure of office at Le Cap, filled every important position he could with members of his own caste. These men now looked upon Laveaux as a Negrophile interloper attempting to disturb their serenity.

With the connivance of Pinchinat, Villatte began to belittle Laveaux openly, which widened the breach more than ever. A little later on when the French general had one of Villatte’s minor officials arrested for embezzlement, a riot, engineered by Pinchinat, quickly broke out, and Laveaux was publicly insulted and hissed. The crisis came quickly. The mulattoes rose in a body, went to Laveaux’s house, seized the general, dragged him through the streets, and flung him into jail. But unfortunately for Rigaud’s hopes of a mulatto dominion, his agents had gone too far.

Laveaux instantly sent word to Toussaint, detailing the outrage of his arrest and ending his long letter with: “It is necessary, my friend, that you send forces at once to overthrow these rebels.”

Toussaint immediately ordered two battalions to go to the general’s help and to announce that he himself was coming with 10,000 men resolved “to sacrifice everything that lived in Le Cap” if any attempt were made on the life of Laveaux.

Toussaint’s threat was enough. The thoroughly terrified mulattoes released the general, and by the time Toussaint with his army entered the city Villatte and his followers had escaped to the mountains. Calm was once more restored.

Laveaux, with his sufferings and his narrow escape still fresh in his mind, was overcome with gratitude to Toussaint. At a great public ceremony in the presence of the army he appointed Toussaint lieutenant governor of San Domingo and with quivering voice solemnly announced that henceforth he would take no action whatever without consulting the Negro leader. He declared that Toussaint was his savior and the avenger of constituted authority. He called him “that black Spartacus prophesied by Raynal whose destiny is to avenge the outrages on his race.” These words and the attitude of General Laveaux added enormously to Toussaint’s prestige. The blacks looked on him almost as a supernatural being when they witnessed the supreme white authority heaping honors on one who had so recently been a slave.

Toussaint was just as ecstatic as the general. “After God, Laveaux,” he cried excitedly.

Pamphile de Lacroix, writing about this incident, admits that “the fact that San Domingo still flies the French flag, it is only right to say, is owing only to an old Negro who seems to have a mission from Heaven to reunite the remnants of his race.” Then he adds: “It cannot be denied that as soon as Toussaint was officially associated with the government there was an immense improvement in the spirit of the Negroes. The voice of authority, no longer suspect, called them to order, to work, to submission. Toussaint’s power became greater than ever, changing, by his will alone, the licentious habits of the blacks.”

Toussaint did not neglect to impress on the planters that it was to their interest to support him as Laveaux had done because it rested with him alone to reestablish the sugar industry in a great part of the colony.

Absolute master of the blacks, he instilled such order and discipline into them that those he did not wish to retain in his army instantly obeyed when ordered to take up again the harsher duties of plantation life. Merchants reopened their shops and business secured a new lease of life in the north. The awe, confidence, and trust felt for Toussaint was little short of idolatry.

It was at the beginning of these improved conditions that the Directoire government at Paris saw fit to send a new civil commission to exercise authority for France in the colony. Its members included no less a person than Sonthonax, already well known in San Domingo; Raymond, a mulatto; Leblanc, formerly a Terrorist; Giraud, a weakling; and Roume, appointed to represent the government in the Spanish section ceded to France. In addition there were three thousand troops under General Rochambeau (son of the famous general of the American Revolution), who had previously served on the island.

These gentlemen had the usual kindly reception on landing at Le Cap. Their responses to their welcome were tactful and conciliatory. Their initial actions were sufficiently indefinite to please the Negroes. They heard from Laveaux in detail of the iniquities and dangers he had been subjected to and immediately named Toussaint general of division for his distinguished services. They also impulsively signed a proclamation declaring Villatte an outlaw to be captured dead or alive, but Sonthonax, fearing its effect on the mulattoes, persuaded his associates to amend it. He then sent an order for Villatte to appear before him, and after a lengthy cross-examination banished him to France. This leniency to one who might have been executed, far from soothing mulatto feelings, had the opposite effect and convinced them afresh that Sonthonax was much too Negrophile.

The mulattoes were not the only ones who thought so. General Rochambeau was so disgusted at the honors and distinctions given to Toussaint that he protested to Sonthonax. For his trouble he was sent back to France. Sonthonax was not in the habit of welcoming opinions that differed from his own.

These disturbances were duly reported to General Rigaud, who, jealous of the attentions Sonthonax appeared to be showering on the Negroes, refused point-blank to take orders from Toussaint, now his superior officer. As Rigaud’s army was composed of several thousand well-armed mulatto troops and a large number of black regiments forced to serve under him, he seemed to be in a position to back up his belligerent attitude. He had also reestablished slavery in his territory and was kept fully supplied with whatever materials and ammunition he needed by vessels from the United States. It was difficult at this time to send an expedition against the defiant Rigaud, as the English occupied most of the section through which opposing troops would have to go.

In his extremity Sonthonax decided to send a deputation, ostensibly to investigate conditions in Rigaud’s territory, but in reality to stir up as much dissension as possible in an attempt to break his power. The latter saw through the intentions of the “deputation,” and to counteract any possible influence they may have had in his district he sent messengers to the cane fields to urge the blacks to rise. They were told that the delegates had come among them with chains to enslave them once more. Rigaud’s little plot worked only too well. The one word “slavery” was enough. The blacks rose, massacred the few remaining white settlers, and threw the delegates into jail. Rigaud himself, who had been “accidentally” absent while the butchery was going on, now opportunely arrived on the scene and instantly set the investigators free. Thoroughly scared, they lost no time in returning to Le Cap to inform Sonthonax that Rigaud was indeed still master of the south.

The Commissioners sought to divert attention from the failure of their mission by renewing the offensive against the English. While Rigaud harassed them from the territory he held, Toussaint made successful raids on Mirebalais, Grand-Bois, and other important positions.

His force became the strongest single unit in the whole of the republican armies. Wherever Toussaint went the blacks flocked to his standard. The magic of his name became so all-powerful that in order to detach whatever Negroes still remained with the English, the commissioners promoted Toussaint Louverture commander-in-chief of the armies of San Domingo. As soon as this appointment was known, hope in the successful outcome of the war became general. The blacks were fired with fresh enthusiasm. They were certain that Toussaint could do whatever he wished, and they fairly burned to be in action under his authority.

Internal dissensions, to say nothing of the struggle against the English which still dragged on, had tired the whole colony. Every one wanted peace and a chance to build up prosperity once more. Toussaint was the man of the hour and easily replaced Sonthonax in the general respect of the people.

Sonthonax meanwhile, setting aside his desire for an opportune time to discipline Rigaud, had been concentrating his attention on furthering his own political glory. He began by a quarrel with his fellow commissioner, Giraud, who in a state of collapse gladly returned to France. He next tackled Leblanc, who died under suspicious circumstances. Raymond, the mulatto member, didn’t have enough courage for Sonthonax to bother about; so he was permitted to continue being a nonentity. Roume’s work was in the Spanish section only, and as it did not in any way clash with the dreams of Sonthonax, he was left alone.

These political tricks left on the horizon but one white person of any prominence who might thwart Sonthonax’s ambitions. This was Laveaux; so the commissioner decided to get rid of the general in a perfectly painless manner.

The new French Constitution had decided that the colony of San Domingo was to be regarded as an integral part of France and as such entitled to several seats in the national legislature. Sonthonax therefore conceived the idea of having Laveaux elected deputy from San Domingo and by “kicking him upstairs” get rid of him. He then proceeded to convince Toussaint what a good thing it would be for the colony to have Laveaux as its representative. Sonthonax, thoroughly satisfied that with Laveaux out of the way he could easily gain dominion over a mere Negro, was delighted with his own astuteness when he found that Toussaint agreed with his plan.

The elections took place. The result was favorable to every one but Laveaux, who was “elected” by a large majority. When he was informed of his popular success the general, none too pleased with his new honors, sailed for France.

Before the clever Sonthonax had had time to congratulate himself on the outcome of his scheme, he discovered that Toussaint had decided to have him appointed a deputy also. Another “election” was held and in spite of his protests Sonthonax found himself unable to resist “the will of the people.” He topped the polls just as Laveaux had. In an eleventh-hour attempt to check Toussaint the commissioner foolishly tried to win over some of his Negro officers, but they remained loyal to their general.

At last Toussaint, annoyed by Sonthonax’s designs, confronted him at the head of several thousand soldiers. With smiling deference the black commander-in-chief politely suggested that it was high time for Sonthonax to do the colony the honor of going to France as its representative. Toussaint followed up his interview with two forceful letters in which he urged Sonthonax to let the home government know how everything was progressing in San Domingo and to do it quickly!

Not being too sure how the Directoire would regard the sudden elections of Laveaux and Sonthonax, Toussaint took advantage of a recent offer of the government to send his two sons to France to be educated. In his letter to the authorities that accompanied the boys he said, “So great is my confidence in the Directoire that sending you my sons at this time when complaints are being made against me is proof of the sincerity of my feelings.”

When Sonthonax arrived in France, he quickly carried out Toussaint’s injunction to let the government know what was going on in the colony, but hardly in the manner the Negro commander-in-chief desired. Sonthonax, in giving the details of his own appointment as deputy, finished by openly accusing Toussaint of a secret ambition to make San Domingo independent of France.

This thoroughly alarmed the government, and if they had not been busily engaged in a war with England they would have immediately ordered a military expedition against Toussaint. Unable to spare an army, they did the next best thing. They dispatched General Hédouville, a brilliant soldier, with an unsullied record as a “pacifier,” one of the ablest diplomats in France, to use his skill on the great Negro leader. All France anxiously waited to see if he could conquer where so many had already failed.

CHAPTER

IX

IN view of the reports Sonthonax made to the Directoire, General Hédouville was given special instructions to watch Toussaint carefully.

Hédouville, properly impressed with the importance and difficulty of his mission, sailed from France on April 21, 1798. Seventeen days later he landed at the city of Santo Domingo, capital of the Spanish portion of the island. He went there first to get all the information and advice possible from Commissioner Roume to guide him in his efforts to throw oil on the French colony’s troubled waters.

When his visit to Roume was ended, Hédouville set out for Le Cap. His reception there was cordial, if not wildly enthusiastic. He went out of his way to snub the mulatto Commissioner Raymond (over whom, of course, he took precedence) for the accommodating role he had played in the “election” of Sonthonax. Toussaint noted this, and not wishing to be in any way involved by Raymond, engineered his election as a deputy to the Council of Five Hundred and shipped him to France.

Toussaint did not trouble himself to consult Hédouville over Raymond’s “election” and displayed no haste to pay him a visit. He was, however, kept informed of every move Hédouville made. Toussaint knew the French diplomat was there to subdue him if he could, and his feelings toward him were not any friendlier when he learned of the contempt some of Hédouville’s officers felt for him. A group of them boasted to the general that if he would give them just four men they would guarantee to go and arrest “this monkey with the linen headdress.” Fortunately for themselves, Hédouville did not accept their offer.

He did, however, send instructions to Toussaint to arrest General Rigaud and deport him to France for his ill-treatment of the delegates whom Civil Commissioner Sonthonax had sent to visit him.

Toussaint, with a great show of deference, replied that he did not wish to carry out such an order “on account of Rigaud’s great services against the English.”

Hédouville, swallowing this rebuff for the time being, summoned Toussaint and Rigaud for a conference, mainly to impress on both these leaders that he, as the Directoire’s special representative, was clothed with supreme authority. The meeting turned out to be of little importance. Hédouville soon saw how difficult his mission of conciliator was likely to become with two such defiant men backed by trained troops.

At this conference Hédouville showed Rigaud marked attention. This irritated Toussaint, and in an attempt to appear indifferent, he professed to be thoroughly tired of his responsibilities and the difficulties of his command. Instantly the captain of the vessel in which Hédouville had arrived remarked, “How flattered I would be if after having had the honor of bringing General Hédouville out here I could take back Toussaint Louverture, whose services would find in France recognition, honors, and the rest he has so well earned.” Toussaint gave him one piercing look and said, “Your vessel isn’t big enough for a man like me.” Another of Hédouville’s suite suggested to Toussaint that he was well entitled to go to France and end his days in peace. “That’s exactly my intention,” said Toussaint, “and I am going to carry it out when that”— pointing to a small shrub—“has grown big enough to make a ship.”

The solicitude of these two proposals did not escape Toussaint. He stored up the memory for future use.

At the time of Hédouville’s arrival at San Domingo some idea of the pitiful situation of the English must have seeped into the consciousness of the British War Office. Instead of sending out several thousand fresh soldiers, it was decided that what the San Domingo troops needed was a new commander-in-chief. An officer of experience and reputation named General Simcoe was ordered to take charge, and as soon as he landed he set to work at an impossible task to the best of his ability.

Toussaint celebrated Simcoe’s appearance by threatening the English at Mirebalais, which he forced them to evacuate to avoid capture. He then compelled them to fall back on Port-au-Prince, which meant abandoning the entire plain of Cul-de-Sac and losing their main line of communication with the Spanish portion of the island.

It was not long before the unexpected nature of the fighting and the diminishing prospects of success proved too much for General Simcoe. He packed his bags and safeguarded the remains of his military reputation by a swift return to England.

Again the British home authorities sought to crack the San Domingo nut by appointing a new commander. Simcoe’s successor was Major General Nesbit, but he died before entering on his duties, and General Maitland was sent out in his place.

This astute officer took one long lingering look at the situation and decided that British preoccupation with urgent affairs in Europe would prevent the government from giving that attention to the conquest of San Domingo which he regarded it as deserving. And having made up his mind to depart from the scene of so much disappointment, suffering, and loss, Maitland began to make overtures to Toussaint just as the black general was getting ready to besiege Port-au-Prince. A month’s truce was agreed on, on condition that the English gave up Port-au-Prince and retired to Jérémie. Some of Toussaint’s own men criticized him for his leniency. Hédouville, too, blamed him severely, thoroughly convinced that the English had bought him. No doubt he could have taken Port-au-Prince after a bombardment, but Toussaint said that even if the English were defending it, it was populated by Frenchmen, and he thought it wiser and more humane to capture it without further bloodshed.

When Toussaint marched through the city the crowds went wild. The residents of Port-au-Prince ran to greet him with flags flying. They cheered him as their deliverer and offered Toussaint all kinds of distinctions and honors which he refused.

He agreed to allow the English to retire in good order to their northern stronghold at Môle-Saint-Nicolas, where the formal capitulation was to take place.

Hédouville, piqued by Toussaint’s assumption of sole power to negotiate with the English, resolved to deal with them himself in any future truces or treaties. He was actually in the midst of arrangements with the English to surrender Môle-Saint-Nicolas when Toussaint complained to Maitland. The English general instantly broke off negotiations with Hédouville with the explanation that he would deal only with a military authority whose power he could acknowledge. Hédouville then had the galling experience of seeing Toussaint supersede him in the formal capitulation and of being forced to abide by the terms.

On October 1, 1798, Toussaint entered Môle-Saint-Nicolas in triumph. Troops lined the street and saluted as he passed. The English went out of their way to show him the highest respect. A decorated marquee was erected in the public square, where General Maitland gave a dinner in honor of Toussaint. In the name of the King of England he presented Toussaint with the silver service which had been used at the banquet. Toussaint was then given the honor of reviewing the English troops, after which he was presented with two bronze ornaments.

The treaty was formally signed. By its terms the English agreed to give up their military positions on the island and set free all black and mulatto troops under their command. A commercial agreement was also entered into by which England was to recognize San Domingo as an independent and neutral power.

According to General Pamphile de Lacroix, General Maitland tried to bribe Toussaint with something far more alluring than a silver service. “I saw in the archives of the government at Port-au-Prince,” says Lacroix, “and all the officers of the staff of our army saw with me, the secret proposition to induce Toussaint to declare himself king of San Domingo.” He was, of course, to be king under a British suzerainty, to sign an exclusive commercial treaty, and to import only British goods. Maitland also promised him a squadron to protect the island against France.

But the ex-slave declined the high honor of becoming a monarch under British protection and stoutly maintained his allegiance to the Republic.

Another incident gives a further insight into the mind of this extraordinary Negro. During the period when the English were making preparations to embark, General Maitland wrote Toussaint that he would like to visit him at his headquarters to discuss some point in the treaty, and Toussaint replied, setting a definite day for the meeting.

While this exchange of courtesies was going on, Toussaint received a letter from Roume, the commissioner who was looking after French interests in Santo Domingo. Roume wrote that he had heard of General Maitland’s intended visit and suggested that it would be a splendid stroke for the Republic if Toussaint would make him a prisoner when he called.

On the way to Toussaint’s camp Maitland was warned of Roume’s plot and strongly advised not to put himself in the Negro leader’s power. Maitland decided to rely on Toussaint’s good faith and continued his journey.

When he arrived at headquarters the Englishman was asked to wait as Toussaint could not see him for some time. The delay seemed unnecessarily long. In the light of the warning he had received, misgivings began to enter Maitland’s mind as the minutes passed. At last, just as his suspicions and fears were completely aroused, Toussaint came into the room with two open letters in his hand.

“There, General,” he said to Maitland, “read these two letters before we begin our conversation; one is a letter received from Roume, and the other is my answer. I would not come to you till I had written my answer to him, that you may see how safe you are with me and how incapable I am of such treachery.”

At the conclusion of his treaty with Toussaint, General Maitland, thoroughly satisfied with his bargain, sailed from the island with the remnants of his army. Toussaint was then able to write to his old friend Laveaux, living in Paris, “I found the colony distracted, dismembered, ruined, overrun by the bands of Jean-François, the Spanish, and the English, who fought among themselves for the remains. Today our country is purged of all enemies, serene, at peace, and rapidly approaching complete restoration.”

And so after five years’ incessant hardships, a horrible waste of officers and 30,000 men, together with an expenditure of $100,000,000, all hopes of raising the Union Jack over San Domingo faded forever into a bloody mist.

The French did not get off so easily!

The commanding position Toussaint had achieved through his negotiations with the English aroused the animosity of General Hédouville, who saw himself, the special emissary of the Directoire, publicly thrust into the background by a Negro. What made Hédouville’s secondary position all the more galling was Toussaint’s nonchalance as he set about restoring the country’s agricultural prosperity. He undertook the task single-handed and did not bother to consult the Directoire’s representative on anything connected with it.

A few days after the formal capitulation of the English, Toussaint ordered every one to attend a special church service. Following a Te Deum, Toussaint mounted the pulpit and in a remarkable address officially announced the success of the French Republic triumphing over her enemies in Europe and in San Domingo.

He grew ecstatic as he expatiated on France’s incomparable power. He pointedly emphasized the infinite grandeur of her generosity, which he said she could afford to display even to those émigrés who had aided the English against their own country. Toussaint told them that the best way for them to blot out the past was to retire to their plantations, to live in peace, and to help restore the prosperity of the colony.

He said he would make no distinctions between émigré and creole, black, white, or mulatto. His aim was to maintain freedom, to preserve harmony, and to wipe out all color distinctions.

Addressing his troops, Toussaint said:

“This is the path we all must tread in order to call down upon us the blessings of God. I hope you will never depart from it and that you will scrupulously carry out the following orders:

“The commanding officers of all regiments are required to see that the troops join in prayer morning and evening as far as their duties will permit. At the first morning review all generals will have high Mass celebrated and a Te Deum chanted in all sections of their districts as an expression of gratitude to Heaven for having directed our late campaign, for having brought about the evacuation of the enemy without bloodshed, for having guided the return among us of thousands of men of all colors who had been scattered afar, and finally for having restored more than 20,000 laborers to our fields.”

Almost immediately after his public announcements the planters began returning to their estates, most of which were in sad need of attention. Then under Toussaint’s orders detachments of troops were sent scouring the country to gather in reluctant Negroes, whom he ordered to return to duty in the cane fields.

Toussaint knew that only by industry could anything approaching the pre-war prosperity of the colony be achieved, and one of his hardest tasks was to persuade the Negroes that even though they were no longer slaves it was still necessary for them to labor. The very thought of returning to the plantations brought back memories of slave days to them. However, in spite of this, Toussaint’s orders were implicitly obeyed. The conduct of the troops who carried out his commands was beyond all praise.

“It was remarkable,” says Pamphile de Lacroix, “to see these almost naked Negro soldiers give an example of the most rigid discipline. . . . Fresh from a campaign during which they had lived mainly on corn, they were billeted in the towns without touching any of the products that the cultivators brought from the fields. Tractable and obedient to their officers, respectful to the inhabitants, they had to be called several times even to come for their meals. This discipline over these ‘barbarians’ was the most wonderful of all Toussaint Louverture’s triumphs.”

His extraordinary administrative gifts and the confidence his amnesty had established with all classes made Toussaint’s prestige increase in proportion as Hédouville’s diminished. Toussaint’s refusal to punish the émigrés who had aided the English was totally contrary to the government’s instructions and infuriated Hédouville. And when he saw Toussaint reestablishing the planters on their properties and appointing those who were soldiers to the same military grades in the National Guard that they had possessed under the English flag, his rage knew no limit.

He published bulletins vigorously denouncing Toussaint and stating that he had strict orders from the Directoire to punish these traitors to the fullest extent. But Toussaint, secure in public approval of his actions, took little notice of Hédouville’s sterile protests. The two men were not in agreement on anything, and the contrast between their opposing viewpoints was made more than ever glaringly apparent in regard to the field workers.

General Hédouville had proclaimed: that “henceforth all blacks shall be free; that the cultivators shall however continue their former work, the produce of which shall be shared as follows, one-third for the proprietors, one-third for the government, and one-third for the cultivators. That all whites (creoles or émigrés) who had served the English shall be banished and their property confiscated.” Toussaint replied with a proclamation in which he declared “a general amnesty; that henceforth there would be no recognition of émigrés among the colonists; that all planters, whether they had served England or not, were invited to return to the colony, where they would enjoy every protection; that in truth the blacks were free but that they should continue their work for five years on the plantations of their former masters and that they were to receive one-fourth of all they produced, from which, however, their former masters could deduct the cost of their support.”

Every one was so certain that Toussaint’s plan would promote the colony’s immediate and future welfare that Hédouville’s attempt to create a diversion in his favor came to nothing.

When Hédouville saw the unpopular reception of his bulletin and realized his inability to cope with Toussaint he did what so many of his predecessors had done—he turned to the mulattoes for aid. On the pretext that he had some special information to impart he invited the mulatto General Rigaud to Le Cap for a conference. Toussaint, thoroughly aware of all that it meant, made no attempt to interfere with Rigaud or to prevent the interview. When some Negro officers in great alarm rushed to inform Toussaint at Port-au-Prince that Rigaud was en route for Le Cap, Toussaint calmly replied, “Let Monsieur Rigaud go and get his instructions from the agent of the Directoire. Do not be alarmed.”

The officers withdrew, and Toussaint remarked to a white colonist: “I might have him stopped—but God keep me from it. I need Monsieur Rigaud—he suits me to make war with—that war which is necessary to me.—The mulatto caste is higher than mine; if I did away with Monsieur Rigaud they might perhaps find a better man. I know Monsieur Rigaud. He is violent. He lets the bridle go when he gallops. He shows his arm when he strikes. I gallop too, but I curb; and when I strike, men feel but do not see me. Monsieur Rigaud knows how to make insurrections only by blood and massacre; I also know how to move the people. He trembles, does Monsieur Rigaud, when he sees the people he has excited in a fury. I do not tolerate fury; when I appear, all must be quiet again.”

Confident that he could deal with General Rigaud when he was ready to do so, Toussaint permitted him to carry on his intrigue with General Hédouville. The day of reckoning with Rigaud could wait. But as for General Hédouville, Toussaint decided that it was about time for him to see his native land once more.

Suddenly, when Rigaud was holding his conference with Hédouville, secret agents friendly to Toussaint galloped around the country, spreading the rumor that the emissary of the Directoire, jealous of the glorious triumphs of the commander-in-chief, was plotting to overthrow his authority as the first step to the reestablishment of slavery! As ever, the word “slavery” was enough. Uneasiness, confusion, and anxiety instantly arose. Fear and fury multiplied. A new revolution seemed inevitable.

A spirit of unrest attacked the Fifth Colonial Regiment, commanded by Toussaint’s nephew, General Moyse. This became so serious that the inhabitants of Fort Dauphin, where this regiment was stationed, attempted to disarm the blacks with the aid of some European troops who were also part of the garrison. Rioting immediately broke out between the white and black troops, in which the blacks were beaten. The Negroes, in a body under General Moyse, then spread out all over the Plaine-du-Nord, and without warning the whole of the north echoed the cry that Hédouville had really come to San Domingo to restore slavery. When that alarming cry once started it could no more be stopped than a prairie fire.

Once more the horrors of 1791 were repeated. Conflagrations broke out. Whites were massacred, and a thoroughly alarmed black mass marched on Le Cap.

General Hédouville, well aware that he had not nearly enough troops to conquer such a mob and none too certain of the loyalty of those he did command, sent a message of despair to Toussaint to come and save the situation. Toussaint instantly put himself at the head of an army and arrived at Le Cap in the midst of the most boiling confusion and turmoil. As soon as the defending army learned that Toussaint was among them they retired and peace was effected.

General Hédouville, realizing that his time had come, made no further attempt to oppose Toussaint. He gathered around him a miscellaneous band of 1800 whites, mulattoes, and disaffected blacks, and set sail for France. The general departed in a froth of frustration intensified by the humiliating reflection that he, the famous pacificator of La Vendée, had met defeat at the hands of a Negro ex-slave!

Immediately after Hédouville’s departure the disturbance quieted down. Every one, black and white, went back to work. Peace was established, and the colony began to enjoy a much-needed breathing-spell. Toussaint’s name was on every tongue. Wherever he went he was cheered by all classes, with the exception of the mulattoes; they could never forget that Toussaint was a Negro. His commanding position was an impossible pill for them to swallow.

They not only shared General Rigaud’s hatred of his black rival but sympathized fully with his ambitions. They looked to him, as the leader of their caste, to seize the first opportune moment to teach Toussaint and his black hordes a lesson.

Toussaint felt certain that a collision was unavoidable. Although he had no fear of the outcome if the two castes were left alone by the Directoire, he had a shrewd idea that Hédouville’s account of his “departure” from San Domingo might influence the French government to support Rigaud.

To offset this possibility Toussaint decided to send a special emissary to France with a letter explaining his conduct. It was a very long, rambling document, condemning everything Hédouville had done and justifying every act of his own.

In his dispatch Toussaint took occasion to inform the Directoire that “on the departure of the English, Hédouville declared that all the black forces ought to be disbanded in order to be sent back to agriculture, and that European soldiers only should be employed in the defense of the coasts. Then distrust entered the soldiers’ hearts, and while previously a part of them had taken up the hoe without a murmur, they showed aversion toward a measure which they regarded as an attack on liberty.”

He then detailed the tactlessness and bad faith of Hédouville; these had led up to the rioting at Le Cap which compelled the government representative to save his own skin by returning to Europe.

“I learned,” wrote Toussaint, “that the rising of the laborers had become general, that all the plain was in arms and threatened Le Cap with immediate destruction.... I sent on all sides faithful emissaries to calm the agitated minds of men; to announce to them my arrival, and to require of them to do nothing without my orders. I hastened to set myself in opposition to the enterprises of the more senseless, who had already taken possession of the heights of Le Cap and of Fort Belair, which commands the city. With difficulty could I make my way through the crowds; an immense influx of people, whom the blind desire for revenge had armed, covered all the roads which led to Le Cap, and threatened it with the greatest calamities. Frightened at the abyss on the brink of which the city stood, I ran to draw it back. In my course I learned that the general agent had gone on board his ship. Surprised at the news, I hastened to Le Cap, which I reached with difficulty, after having, sometimes by prayers, sometimes by menaces, stopped the torrent which threatened it with inundation. My astonishment caused by the departure of General Hédouville was changed into grief when I learned that that agent, alarmed, doubtless, at the dangers to which he had exposed the public weal, and despairing of any longer being able to conserve it, had resolved to go away, and that, to color his pusillanimous flight, he had proclaimed that I was aiming at independence.

“The terror having increased, more than 1800 persons followed the agent in his flight. He ordered the cannon to be spiked. The command was being executed when there arose a cry, ‘To arms!’ The troops drawn out in battle array were moved by the cry; they were pacified by their leaders; had a single musket been fired, the city would have perished.

“Strong in my conscience, I shall not remind you, Citizen Directors, of all that I have done for the triumph of liberty, the prosperity of San Domingo, the glory of the French Republic; nor will I protest to you my attachment to our mother country, to my duties; my respect to the constitution, to the laws of the Republic, and my submission to the government. I swear to you I am faithful, and my future conduct, more than all oaths, will prove to you that I shall always be faithful.

“If the defense of my cause, that of the freedom of my brethren, needed cunning and intrigue and manly eloquence, in order to triumph over my enemies, I would give it up and weep over France; but as I am persuaded that it is sufficient only to present the truth for it to be apprehended by the republican government, I am satisfied with setting before you an exposition of my conduct, and of that of General Hédouville, and repose on your justice for the verdict which is to result.”

The Directoire let Toussaint believe that his explanation was quite satisfactory and sent word to him that they accepted his letter at its full value.

Hédouville’s report, however, had thoroughly alarmed them. He informed the Directoire that Toussaint’s protestations of loyalty were false, that his sole aim was to preserve his own arbitrary authority, and that he was secretly intriguing with England and America, with the ultimate intention of declaring the colony’s independence.

Hédouville concluded his report with these ominous words: “If the Directoire cannot take the very strong necessary measures, the sole hope of checking Toussaint Louverture even for the moment lies in sedulously fostering the hate which exists between the mulattoes and Negroes, and by opposing Rigaud to Toussaint Louverture.”

The Directoire, not being in a position to deal directly with Toussaint as they wished, decided to take Hédouville’s advice and encourage Rigaud to do the job for them.

CHAPTER

X

AS General Hédouville was leaving for France he threw a bomb into the affairs of San Domingo that exploded with terrific force.

He issued a bulletin stating in plain words that Toussaint was preparing to betray the colony to the English. To add to the general suspicion and confusion, Hédouville “authorized” Rigaud to gather his mulatto followers around him and oppose the treasonable designs of the black leader. He also disengaged Rigaud entirely from submission to Toussaint’s authority as general-in-chief and invited him to take command of the Department of the South.

Toussaint, although confident of his ability to defeat Rigaud, was at the same time anxious to postpone, if possible, the horrors of a caste war. He knew that a struggle between the blacks and mulattoes would lead to outrages and excesses beyond human credence. For this reason he wrote to Rigaud and begged him not to commit a single act that might lead to hostilities.

Rigaud made no direct response to these overtures in his reply but went out of his way to complain of Toussaint’s partiality for the returned planters. He was in no mood to deal amicably with Toussaint. Hédouville’s support and indorsement urged him far beyond the point of reconciliation. He set the machinery in motion to bring about the most frightful conflict that had ever taken place on the already blood-soaked soil of San Domingo.

The excitement and unrest aroused by Rigaud’s defiant attitude prompted Toussaint to invite Commissioner Roume from Santo Domingo city to Le Cap to take the place of General Hédouville and to act as arbiter in the disagreement between Rigaud and himself. Roume gladly agreed to come, and in his contact with Toussaint he developed a tremendous admiration for him, which is revealed in his letter to the Minister of Marine at Paris. “The general-in-chief,” Roume wrote, “in spite of great pain in his hip, presented himself on my arrival. The high opinion of his heart and mind I had already formed was still further enhanced by the reality. He is a philosopher, a legislator, a good general, and a good citizen. The merit of Toussaint is so transcendent that I have difficulty in conceiving why so many people do not find qualities in him to praise but only things to criticize and malign.”

Roume could not understand Hédouville’s support of the mulattoes. He said that nine-tenths of the people favored Toussaint, and in his opinion Hédouville’s attitude was “un-republican and Machiavellian.”

He wrote the Directoire to grant Toussaint and his adherents a full pardon for all past acts, particularly those connected with Hédouville’s “departure.”

Roume also addressed a bulletin to “the people of all colors”: “The virtues of Citizen General-in-Chief Toussaint Louverture have at various times saved you from imminent dangers surrounding you; and France owes to this great man the possession of one of its most important colonies. You cannot have too much confidence in him.”

The commissioner’s first act was to call Toussaint and Rigaud together to bring about, if possible, a settlement. To promote good feeling among the people and also to give an air of great importance to the meeting, public festivities were held to celebrate the sixth anniversary of the colony’s abolition of slavery.

Rigaud attended the conference with obvious reluctance, anticipating very little sympathy from Roume. When the question of territorial jurisdiction cropped up, Rigaud expressed his dissatisfaction with the commissioner’s decision, which left him only the southern peninsula and compelled him to give up to Toussaint all the southern district of the west province to the walls of Léogane.

This territorial distribution appeared to Rigaud’s inflamed mind as a triumph for the hated Negro, and when he was also asked to submit to Toussaint’s authority, Rigaud broke off the negotiations and left for the south in a towering passion.

From that moment it was plain that the clash could not be put off any longer. Preparations on both sides were as swift as hatred could make them. Both Toussaint and Rigaud raised recruits in the name of France. Both armies carried her colors, and both claimed to be fighting her battle. Blacks and mulattoes accused each other of the foulest treachery against the mother land, each raising the familiar cry that the other was sold to the English and wished to reestablish slavery.

The whites were forced to join one side or the other. Those who lived in the south were compelled to aid Rigaud, while those who lived elsewhere, even if they did not actively join Toussaint, were obliged to give him some sort of assistance.

The planters who could do so rallied around Toussaint, well knowing that in case the mulattoes were successful their massacre was a certainty.

General Rigaud, impatient to be at his rival’s throat, delivered the first blow. In a small village called Corail in the southern department his mulatto hordes seized a white man and twenty-nine blacks and suffocated the whole thirty in a prison cell at Jérémie. That one act was all Toussaint needed to make up his mind to see this racial struggle through, fully and completely, once and for all.

Rigaud followed up this initial success by a surprise attack on Petit Goave, where he massacred every white man he could find. He then marched against Grand Goave, surprised Léogane, and repeated his merciless carnage in both places.

Toussaint, meanwhile, anxious to try conclusions where the enemy was committing such butchery, hurried off to Port-au-Prince and publicly accused Rigaud of having started the caste war. He ordered all the mulattoes in the city to assemble in the church, and when they had arrived in fear and trembling, Toussaint ascended the pulpit. In a violent harangue he announced his early departure in pursuit of his enemies and told his quaking audience that Rigaud’s rebellious efforts were doomed. “General Rigaud refuses to obey me because I am black,” he cried in his high-pitched voice. “I see to the bottom of your mulatto souls; you are ready to rise against me here, but although all my troops are quitting the west I leave behind my eye and my arm—my eye which will watch you, my arm which, if necessary, will fall upon you.”

At the conclusion of this threatening warning the mulattoes slunk out of the church in a quaking sweat of fear lest Toussaint should deal with them as Rigaud had recently dealt with some of Toussaint’s supporters whom he had captured. When the mulattoes found they were not to be ill-treated they returned to their homes and shut themselves up for several days.

Toussaint gathered together 10,000 men at Port-au-Prince to march against Rigaud. As he was about to advance he was threatened with a most unexpected reverse. Rigaud, by a series of plots whose ramifications spread through every mulatto stronghold from north to south, almost succeeded in putting Port-au-Prince itself at his mercy, and Toussaint barely escaped being cooped up as a prisoner in the very city he was certain he controlled.

This attempt on Port-au-Prince was the signal for the mulattoes of the Artibonite region to rise, while in the north a more extended insurrection broke out. If Rigaud had possessed half of Toussaint’s initiative the mulatto rising might have been crowned with success then and there. But Rigaud, able as he undoubtedly was, was no match for his black opponent.

Toussaint got wind of the plot just as the trap was about to be sprung. Collecting his most trusted officers and their picked troops around him, he advanced like lightning from Port-au-Prince to the north, fell like a thunderbolt on the Artibonite mulattoes, freed several white prisoners Rigaud had taken in the Gonaïves and Gros-Morne districts, sent the savage Dessalines to subdue Môle-Saint-Nicolas, while he himself dashed straight on to Le Cap. When the mountainous nature of the country over which Toussaint and his men had to journey is considered, their achievement was nothing short of marvelous.

The mulattoes of the north, following the collapse of their schemes, were subjected to the usual violence and cruelty by their captors. All who bore arms were arrested, stripped, put in chains, and at the least whimper of complaint, mercilessly flogged. As these outrages were in progress Toussaint himself arrived at Le Cap unexpectedly, and every mulatto in the town gave himself up for lost.

With a keen sense of the dramatic, Toussaint gave orders that all mulattoes were to gather at the church. When they arrived they saw a large Negro garrison on guard. Those who had been implicated in the plot against Toussaint were certain they had attended only to hear their own doom pronounced.

Toussaint, however, strode to the pulpit and astonished his audience by a long dissertation on the virtue of mercy. He ended by saying “that the mulattoes had been punished enough; that they should be pardoned by every one as he pardoned them; that they should receive safe-conducts and a complete outfit to return to their suffering families; that they should be protected on their way and treated like brothers.”

This surprising generosity from their bitterest enemy produced a frenzy of enthusiasm, and Toussaint left the church to the accompaniment of tearful blessings and prayers.

While these exchanges of clemency and appreciation were going on in the north the struggle with the mulatto insurgents in the south was proceeding with tigerish ferocity. The war became a nightmare. Neither side asked for quarter, or gave any. Chance prisoners were treated as outlaws and reserved for atrocities such as only fanaticism can invent. Racial hatred flashed like a flame over both armies. Men were known to tear each other to bits with their teeth. Tortures were inflicted by mulatto on black, and black on mulatto. Horror piled on horror in spite of anything Toussaint could do to restrain his men.

Rigaud, personally brave and inspired by an indelible hatred, fought like a demon and maintained his position at all costs.

Toussaint, bold, resourceful, and ever watchful as he was, narrowly escaped assassination on at least two occasions. Crossing the route between Gros-Morne and Jean-Rabel, he and a handful of men fell into an ambush. A shower of bullets, bursting suddenly from the trees, instantly killed Toussaint’s chief physician, a white man named Piramond, while Toussaint himself had the plume from his head-dress shot away.

Shortly afterward he had another escape. On his way between Arcahaye and Source-Puante his carriage received the attention of his enemies; Toussaint’s coachman was killed, but he himself, instead of being inside the carriage, happened to be on his horse several yards away—in safety.

Defeats and victories, attended by terrible sacrifices of life and murderous savagery, went on for some time. For long periods Toussaint could win only partial successes. Rigaud’s troops, though fewer in number, proved superior in intelligence and training. Toussaint’s greatest handicap, however, was the tremendous extent of country he had to hold. The terror inspired by Rigaud’s atrocities drove the laborers from the fields to the cities. This brought cultivation to a standstill, and the rural districts were quickly overrun with the rank vegetation of the tropics. While crops languished and potential food supplies were destroyed, the towns overflowed with fear-stricken inhabitants on the verge of want.

Toussaint now resolved to make a superhuman effort to end this bloody strife once and for all. He decided on the bold stroke of besieging Jacmel, a fortified position of great strength with one side on the seashore. Jacmel was the key to the entire southern department held by Rigaud, and as Toussaint knew, was capable of a most obstinate resistance.

Preparations for the siege were made with considerable difficulty. Women and children were pressed into service as carriers of ammunition and supplies. Laborers in bands of thousands drew huge field-pieces along the edge of precipices and down steep, narrow, almost unpassable roads. At length when all was ready the attacks began, and for over three solid months Toussaint’s chief officer Dessalines sought in vain to reduce the fortress, while Toussaint battled with Rigaud’s relief expeditions and held them helplessly at bay.

Soon, however, Toussaint succeeded in blocking the harbor, and the terrors of famine were added to the troubles of the besieged army. Even the cavalry horses were killed and eaten. Every green thing that could be secured was devoured. Later rats and lizards became luxuries. The officers eventually decided to capitulate, but to their honor, the rank and file would not hear of this, and resistance was continued. Meanwhile, as Rigaud himself did not lend the besieged any active aid, Pétion, one of his ablest lieutenants, assumed command and courageously kept on.

At length, however, Pétion, seeing that further defense was impossible, resolved to cut his way through the besiegers rather than surrender, and on the night of March 11, 1800, Toussaint’s army swarmed through the gates of Jacmel on to further conquests.

Rigaud was at Acquin when Jacmel fell, but instead of making any effort to recoup his losses he contented himself by issuing a proclamation against his adversary and gave vent to his warlike feelings in fierce invectives. “Toussaint,” he declared, “is the bloody Proteus of San Domingo. . . . He is a tiger who devours peaceful people . . . who delivers up to devastation every place his barbarous hordes enter. . . . Let the true friends of France arise en masse and get rid of this triple-headed monster who betrayed Spain, England, France—this atrocious fanatic.”

This appeal was merely a proof of Rigaud’s waning power. It did nothing to offset the damage of Jacmel’s loss, and it lowered Rigaud’s prestige in the eyes even of his devoted followers.

Toussaint responded to Rigaud with one of his own lengthy proclamations which included these words: “Citizens: . . . I repeat for the last time that it is not the citizens of the south whom I regard as disobedient and insubordinate, but Rigaud alone, whom I wish to force to reenter on his duties. . . . Consult your conscience; put aside all prejudice; you will then easily see that Rigaud has wished to drive all men of color into revolt. . . . He aspires to command whites and blacks without wishing to be commanded by them. . . . Wishing to prove to France that I have done everything for the welfare of my compatriots, if Rigaud, although author of these miseries, presents himself to me in good faith and admits his errors, I will receive him. . . . The law is equal for all. . . . Come, all of you, I will receive you all, no less those of the south than those of the west and of the north.”

This broadminded attitude made Rigaud’s violence of expression all the more conspicuous. It had the effect too of shaking the faith of many of Rigaud’s adherents, but in spite of his severe losses the mulatto leader refused to give up the struggle.

Shortly after issuing his bulletin Toussaint journeyed to Le Cap to confer with Roume and left Dessalines in charge of further penetration into the south. Rigaud’s generals hotly disputed every inch of the way but were not able to prevent Dessalines’ advance. Every time the mulattoes were forced to retreat they completely devastated the country over which they passed, fulfilling Rigaud’s orders “to cause every tree to have its roots in the air.” Dessalines reached as far as the town of Miragoane, which he took after a bitter and bloody engagement.

By this time almost the entire population of the south had had enough of this disastrous struggle, which day by day grew more hopeless and threatened the whole department with ruin. Each battle lost increased the mulattoes’ despair. Recruiting fell off, and several municipalities urged Rigaud to make peace.

He replied to their petition with another frenzied proclamation, threatening all municipal councils with court-martial proceedings if they dared assemble without his permission. Rigaud had completely lost his head, and this announcement weakened him still more in public opinion.

He decided to make a final stand at Acquin, where Toussaint had chased him, and in a fierce combat in which the mulatto leader commanded his troops in person he was utterly defeated. The hopelessness of his position compelled him to retreat still farther, and with the remnant of his forces, Rigaud, with his back to the wall, made his way to Aux Cayes.

While the armies of Toussaint and Rigaud were busily absorbed in slaughtering each other, startling events were making a clamor in France that was destined to have a painful echo in San Domingo.

On the morning of November 9, 1799 (18 brumaire), Napoleon pushed his way into the People’s Assembly with a mob of grenadiers, turned the Directoire government into the street, and narrowly missing death himself, snatched the reins of government in his own hands.

Almost immediately after the new consular government was established, Napoleon made up his mind to set the machinery in motion to restore white authority in San Domingo. This was no sudden decision on Napoleon’s part. For a long time he had been obsessed by the nightmare of black government in a French colony, and now that he was head of the nation he intended to do something about it.

With characteristic energy and promptness the First Consul inaugurated his new Constitution, which contained particular provisions affecting all French colonies. This new Constitution abolished entirely the republican principle that the colonies were to be regarded as an integral part of France, and in place of that principle Napoleon substituted the famous Article 91, which decreed that the colonies should be governed henceforth by special laws necessitated by the peculiar problems of their geographical and social status.

In simpler language, this was Napoleon’s way of announcing that if he saw fit he could restore the entire structure of the old regime, which, of course, would include the reestablishment of slavery.

The dwindling of white prestige, the advent of Toussaint in San Domingo, and the constant fear that Martinique, Guadeloupe, and other colonies might forever be lost to France, brought the First Consul’s anger and impatience to the boiling-point.

If Napoleon could have had his way he would have ordered an army to San Domingo to put his will into effect the moment his Constitution went into operation.

Unfortunately, an English blockade at that time made it impossible to break through, and France’s rapidly depreciating fleet had to remain in port. And in any case affairs in Egypt were going so badly that it diverted Napoleon’s attention for a little while from San Domingo. But only for a little while.

The restoration of the former glories of the French colonial empire so preyed on the First Consul’s mind that in spite of the difficulties he was already aware of, he asked Forfait, his Minister of Marine, if it were possible to get an army, somehow, across the Atlantic.

Forfait assured him that such an attempt would be madness until peace with England should permit French ships to leave port. He further advised Napoleon to be patient with Toussaint and to handle him tactfully, or he might set up an independent state while Napoleon’s hands were tied. Forfait suggested that there would be time enough later on to deal as he wished with Toussaint, but that for the present, instead of sending an expedition against him, it would be more politic to send a commission to explain the new Constitution to the black leader so that its real meaning might not alarm him. At the same time, he added, the commission might help end the terrible war between the Negroes and the mulattoes.

Napoleon decided to accept Forfait’s advice, and a proclamation was published, calculated to disarm all black suspicions. It included this unequivocal pledge:

“The Consuls of the Republic . . . declare that the sacred principles of liberty and equality for the blacks will never experience among you any attack or modification.

“BONAPARTE.”

The same day the following decree was issued as a further guarantee of liberty and equality:

“1. Citizens Vincent, Officer of Engineers, Raymond, homme de couleur, and General Michel will set out without delay for San Domingo.

“2. They will transmit the above proclamation.

“3. Citizen Michel will be placed at the disposition of the Agent of the Government Roume, to be employed according to his rank under the orders of General-in-Chief Toussaint Louverture.

“4. Citizen Raymond will be employed in the reestablishment of cultivation under the orders of Agent Roume.

“5. The following words shall be inscribed in gold letters on all battalion flags of the National Guard:

“ ‘Brave Blacks, remember that the French people alone recognize your liberty and equality of rights.’

“BONAPARTE.”

Colonel Vincent took this proclamation to San Domingo himself, expecting Toussaint to be highly elated to hear that Napoleon confirmed him in his position as general-in-chief. Instead of being enthusiastic over Napoleon’s message Toussaint complained of the First Consul’s lack of graciousness in not writing to him personally.

Toussaint also showed his dissatisfaction by neglecting, in spite of Vincent’s arguments and persuasiveness, to inscribe on the army banners the words that the First Consul had ordered. The commander-in-chief explained his refusal by saying, “It is not a liberty of circumstance granted to us that we want; it is the absolute adoption of the principle that all men, white, black, or red, cannot be any man’s property.”

Toussaint’s agents in Paris had given him good reasons for suspecting Napoleon’s true designs, and he knew only too well that, having bought their freedom with their blood, the blacks would retain it only so long as they were able.

Toussaint took pains to be sure that the real motive behind Napoleon’s proclamation was soon well advertised to the Negroes, and this did not add to the commission’s prestige. Of the three men whom Napoleon sent to the colony, Vincent, who was already well acquainted there, alone inspired any respect. It was not long before General Michel was on his way home, while Raymond (whose mulatto skin invited distrust) was kept under surveillance at Le Cap.

In order to inform Rigaud officially that the government regarded him as a rebel and supported Toussaint, Vincent was selected to carry Napoleon’s proclamation to the mulatto chief. Vincent, accompanied by a mulatto and a Negro, set out for Aux Cayes with a none too reliable safe-conduct signed by Roume.

When Rigaud met them and learned their errand it seemed as if their safe-conduct were not going to protect them from his wrath. His exasperation became difficult to describe. Seeing himself, as he thought, abandoned by the government he was serving, he gave himself up to the fury of a madman. He drew a dagger out of his belt and was on the verge of committing suicide when some of his staff seized his arms and prevented him.

Every one else at Aux Cayes welcomed Vincent. As soon as it was learned that he had just come from France and that his was a mission of peace, all idea of further resistance collapsed. It took, however, several days to get Rigaud into a calm enough state of mind to be willing to sit down quietly and confer with Vincent.

Rigaud’s great stumbling-block was recognition of Toussaint. Obedience to a Negro outraged his pride. By the exercise of great patience and tact Vincent at last persuaded him to send delegates to confer with Toussaint, and on this basis he and his fellow commissioners were allowed to depart.

As soon as Vincent had gone Rigaud, brooding over his lost prestige and humiliated by defeat, revoked his decision to negotiate and sounded the alarm for a last mad effort. But the time had gone by for such an appeal to have any effect. Rigaud’s call found no echo. Even the mulattoes refused to rally around him. They knew that his star had set.

This neglect of his own people struck terror into his heart and made Rigaud realize more than anything else that his cause was doomed. Gathering around him Pétion and several other high officers who had faithfully served him, he abandoned the field and fled to the island of Saint-Thomas and from there shortly after sailed for France.

Rigaud’s departure put an end to one more of the bloody struggles to which the island colony seemed forever predestined. With their leader fallen, the mulattoes surrendered, stacked their arms, and awaited their fate in numbed stolidity.

Seven hundred of Rigaud’s men, rather than submit to the hated authority of a Negro, followed their chief’s example and went into exile, most of them settling in Cuba.

On August 1, 1800, Toussaint Louverture marched with banners flying and drums tapping into Aux Cayes, the city where Rigaud had had his headquarters. He was received with great ceremony and after a solemn Te Deum in honor of his victory, he as usual issued a proclamation in which he repeated much of the same statement he had made at the fall of Jacmel.

“Citizens,” he declared, “the welfare and prosperity of the colony demand that we draw a curtain over the past and occupy ourselves only with the reparation of the evils resulting from the strife due to the pride and ambition of a single person. . . . In my position as victor and wishing only to do good to my country, guided by the Lord’s Prayer which says Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, I published a general pardon to all. . . . Let us consider as brothers from now on even those who bore arms against the Republic. On you alone the peace of San Domingo depends. Do not rest until it is achieved.”

The moderation of this proclamation in his hour of triumph brought increased repute to this unique ex-slave. But in spite of its conciliatory tone the mulatto adherents of Rigaud, with the exception of some of the higher officers, showed anything but appreciation of its generous terms. Their implacable hatred and irreconcilable attitude gave Toussaint ample warning to be on his guard against the possibility of further risings.

He therefore appointed Dessalines governor of the Department of the South with general orders to bring about the gradual pacification of that hotbed of rebellion and intrigue. Unfortunately, Dessalines’ idea of what pacification meant was far removed from Toussaint’s, and that sinister monster went from district to district, accompanied by mobs of Negro troops, and methodically weeded out the mulatto population. Dessalines did not fall suddenly on them and massacre large bodies of men; he selected his victims with the very refinement of cruelty and inflicted horrible tortures on them. He had every mulatto and Negro whose attitude did not seem sufficiently abject and cringing unmercifully flogged. He gleefully invented a system of signals by which his officers knew the degrees of punishment intended for his victims. When he turned his snuff-box around in his hand in a certain manner it meant so many blows of the whip. Another movement meant sentence of death to be carried out at night, and if he bowed his head the execution was to be performed at once. Dessalines also instituted “judicial” drownings at sea to get rid of his enemies in a more wholesale manner. This same Dessalines was destined to play an important role in San Domingo’s history before a long-delayed justice ridded the world of his bloody presence.

Before Toussaint was informed of his atrocities this wretched savage massacred several thousand men, women, and children.

It can never be proved whether or not Toussaint was aware of Dessalines’ intentions when he left him in charge of the south, but it is reported that when he heard of these crimes Toussaint remarked, “I told Dessalines to prune the tree, not to uproot it.”

CHAPTER

XI

WITH Rigaud out of the way and the subjugation of the south completed, Toussaint felt that the time had come to give personal attention to conditions in the Spanish section of the island.

This had been in his mind for some time. During the latter phase of his struggle with Rigaud word had reached him that a new traffic in slaves was being secretly carried on in Santo Domingo city and that it was being made the shipping-point for young Negroes destined for Puerto Rico and Cuba.

Representations had been repeatedly made to the Spanish authorities to suppress this traffic, but without result. Toussaint was furious that slavery, now extinct in French San Domingo, should show its ugly head once more in the Spanish section. Convinced that no satisfaction would be received from Madrid, Toussaint wrote to Commissioner Roume to urge him to carry out the terms of the Treaty of Basel, by which the Spanish portion of the island had been ceded to France.

Roume, thoroughly out of sympathy with this request and by now suspicious of Toussaint’s ultimate aims, would have refused if he had dared. He regarded it as wiser, however, to hide his true feelings. He therefore took steps to appoint a commission to take possession of the Spanish colony.

He addressed a proclamation to Don Joaquin Garcia, the Spanish governor-general, in which he said: “The Agency of the French government, in consideration of the evil of transporting cultivators and other citizens of the old French part of San Domingo to the new, has justly excited the indignation of all French citizens in the colony. The people . . . by virtue of the Treaty of Basel and of the instructions of the national government are to take immediate possession of the Spanish section.”

Roume then appointed General Agé and General Chanlatte to proceed with a small escort of white troops to the city of Santo Domingo and to arrange for the formal transfer of authority as outlined.

Roume, satisfied that Toussaint’s desire to occupy the Spanish section was contrary to the French government’s wishes, sent secret word to the Spanish governor to refuse to give up the colony and to detain the commissioners.

Don Joaquin Garcia carried out these private instructions to the letter. He made the envoys and their small escort believe that their lives would be in instant danger if they attempted to carry out their mission. They were guided to the frontier under the protection of Spanish troops and deposited over the border with more haste than courtesy.

When Toussaint heard what had happened he recalled that Roume was the same man who had once urged him to break his word of honor to General Maitland and capture him. He made up his mind that Roume would never have a second opportunity to disobey him. Without further delay he ordered his nephew, General Moyse, to arrest and imprison the commissioner, and possibly to soothe public opinion and to justify his act to the French government, Toussaint published the following:

“The duties of the office held by Citizen Roume were in his quality of representative of the French government, to consecrate his moral and physical faculties to the happiness of San Domingo and to its prosperity. Very far from doing so, he took council only of the intriguers by whom he was surrounded to sow discord amongst us and to foment the troubles which have not ceased to agitate society. However, in spite of the calumnies which he has continually thrown out against myself in his letters to France and San Domingo, he shall be protected from every penalty. But my respect for his character must order him deprived of the power of again plotting against the tranquility which, after so many revolutionary concussions, I have just had the happiness to establish. In consequence and in order to isolate him from the intriguers who have kept him in their shackles and to respond to the complaints made in respect to him by all the parishes, the Brigadier General Moyse will supply the said Citizen Roume with two carriages and a safe escort, which will conduct him to the village of Dondon, where he will remain until the French government shall recall him to render an account of his administration.”

Roume remained in the interior for several months, when he was set at liberty and restored to his duties. Feeling that his reputation had suffered too much to remain any longer in the colony, Roume followed the footsteps of so many of his predecessors and set sail for France—leaving Toussaint to do what he wished with the Spanish authorities.

Toussaint immediately prepared to teach Don Joaquin Garcia a lesson, but with his recent experience fresh in his mind, resolved to make no mistakes this time. Every move he made was kept a secret. Not until he was ready to act did Toussaint give the Spanish any inkling of his intentions. Then, and then only, he wrote a flowery letter to Don Joaquin, filled with personal compliments and honeyed phrases, through which these threatening words pushed their way:

“Reasons of state decided the Agent of the French government to order me to take possession of the Spanish section of Santo Domingo ceded to France. . . . Consequently I warn you that I have charged General Moyse . . . with this important operation and after the outrage attempted by your government on General Agé I have ordered a sufficiently large force to accompany General Moyse to execute the treaty and to protect this section against any enterprises of the Republic’s enemies.”

At the moment when Governor Garcia was reading this piece of literary dynamite 10,000 men were on the march. The Don replied with a graceful composition ornamented with numerous expressions of surprise and bestowing the titles of “Excellency” and “Most Excellent Seigneur” on Toussaint. Unfortunately, things had gone beyond the point where a sprinkling of titles in a letter could induce Toussaint to modify his plans.

Two columns of 5000 men each, under General Moyse and himself, proved too numerous for the Spanish to combat openly. There was hardly any resistance. A few attempts at ambush by a combined group of French and Spanish officials came to nothing. Toussaint merely instructed his generals to rout out these nests, but not to bother to follow them up, and to avoid bloodshed as far as possible. These humane instructions on the one side and the hasty retreat of the Spanish on the other resulted in a swift and successful expedition.

After an agreement which no one was tactless enough to refer to as a surrender, the standard of the King of Spain was formally lowered after a salvo of twenty-one guns, and that of the French Republic was raised in its place, followed by the booming of twenty-two guns. Toussaint and his men entered Santo Domingo city with their heads up and their banners flying. The general-in-chief himself was received by Don Joaquin Garcia and his cabinet. In accordance with Spanish custom on such occasions they invited Toussaint to take the oath in the name of the Holy Trinity to govern with wisdom and fidelity the territory he had just taken. Toussaint declined the honor.

“I cannot do what you ask,” he said, “but I swear with all my heart before God who hears me, that the past is wiped out and that my endeavors and acts will have no purpose other than to make happy and contented those Spanish people who have now become French.”

At these words Don Joaquin expressed a profound appreciation he was far from feeling. Then he handed Toussaint the keys of the city, which he promptly accepted in the name of the French Republic.

“Let us go,” said Toussaint, turning to the crowd, “and thank the Author of all things for having so wonderfully crowned with success the fulfillment of the treaty and the laws of the Republic.”

Led by Toussaint, the governor, and the Spanish officials, every one who could do so squeezed into the Cathedral, where the customary Te Deum was chanted by victor and vanquished—possibly in different keys.

At last Toussaint Louverture was master of the entire island. From Samana to Tiburon the authority of this black man, who ten years before was a slave on Bréda plantation, flourished undisputed. History has few such spectacles to present to the astonished gaze of mankind.

Accompanied by the highest officials, Toussaint made an impressive tour of the principal towns of the Spanish section, where he was received by a shouting populace, cannon salutes, and the ringing of bells. An advance force of his own men stage-managed these ‘enthusiastic’ welcomes. Toussaint frankly enjoyed these far from spontaneous receptions. Wherever he went he excited curiosity, awe, and not a little fear.

Within a short time after Toussaint’s entry into Santo Domingo, Don Joaquin Garcia found it convenient to remove to Cuba, while his black conqueror settled down to administer the territory he had taken possession of. In so doing Toussaint proved himself as able a political leader as he was a military commander. He ordered the abolition of customs lines, to the great advantage of both French and Spanish sections. By this wise measure the French were able to secure horses, mules, and cattle, of which they were in great need, while the opening up of this export trade enormously benefited the Spanish. The importation of French ideas, French industry, and French refinements provided sources of a prosperity impossible to achieve under the torpor of Spanish maladministration and neglect. Roads were built that really were roads, and for the first time in the history of Spanish San Domingo carriages were in general use. A vigorous trade revived, and a new era of hope, enthusiasm, and abundance seemed to have miraculously arisen.

Toussaint remained in Santo Domingo city long enough to see the results of his innovations begin to flourish. He turned over the governorship to his brother, Paul Louverture, and returned to the French section of the island to take up several problems of administration and legislation that were calling for attention.

No one knew better than Toussaint the enormity of his task and the complexity of the difficulties confronting him. He was only too well aware of the prejudices of the various classes with whom he had to deal and the difficulties of securing cooperation from seemingly irreconcilable elements.

But nothing could appear impossible to the man who had lived through the events of the past ten years.

Toussaint set himself to exercise supreme patience and tact and tempered energy with discretion, deference with firmness, subtlety with courtesy. He received the whites with the utmost cordiality and begged them to forget the past and to help him build up the future.

The ending of the war with Rigaud had placed an immensely fertile new region in Toussaint’s hands, and his first act was to set up machinery for the resumption of agriculture. He was convinced that the whole future of San Domingo’s wealth was in the soil.

Through his influence and personal authority, within an incredibly short space of time the fields began to produce. Prosperity, buried for so long, once more began to raise its head. The sun again shone on San Domingo.

News of the miracles that were taking place in the colony trickled overseas, and the exiled planters’ hopes took on a new lease of life. From the United States, Cuba, France, and other parts of Europe letters began to pour in on Toussaint from these scattered colonists, with respectful inquiries whether or not it would be possible to return and regain possession of their property.

Toussaint, realizing that these white people possessed a culture, education, and ability most necessary for the future development of the country, let it be known that they would be welcomed and adequately protected, and even risked the displeasure and suspicions of his own people in so doing.

In spite of their previous experiences and their inherent dislike of living under black rule, their confidence in Toussaint’s wisdom and justice brought these exiles back to San Domingo in dozens. It was no small tribute to this Negro’s character that these white colonists were willing to trust themselves and their families to the protection of one who had little reason for loving them.

Among those invited to return was the overseer of Bréda plantation where Toussaint had lived as a slave. Bayou de Libertas had with Toussaint’s aid escaped to the United States during the first Negro uprising, and now out of gratitude for the kindness he had displayed to his former coachman, Toussaint welcomed him back. The broadminded attitude of this extraordinary black was incomprehensible to most of his followers.

One of the many difficulties resulting from ten years of destruction and confusion was that in many cases all traces of original ownership of estates had been wiped out. To remedy this and to prevent further depreciation Toussaint ordered that these “nameless” plantations be leased for small rentals to a selected list of officers. A portion of their revenues was to be paid to the government and a part to the field workers on a cooperative basis.

This statesmanlike plan worked admirably. According to Lacroix, “the interest which the workers had in making these properties profitable and the cupidity of the military lessees recalled as if by enchantment the flourishing aspect of the old days.” The share that the government received from these leased estates proved more than enough to pay for the entire administration of the colony, while the fortunate officers who developed them soon became immensely wealthy men.

The government that Toussaint established was, naturally, a military one. Under existing conditions it could hardly have been anything else. There is no doubt that it exacted absolute obedience, maintained the strictest discipline, and did not hesitate to enforce its will.

Toussaint had to face the fact that the Negroes whose shackles had been off for ten years could not see why they should be compelled to return to the plantations when they could exist so easily without effort. “Plantations” and “slavery” were for the blacks almost interchangeable terms. Toussaint knew that a dissertation on the colony’s economic needs would not have gone very far with them; so he instituted what amounted to compulsory labor. But the fact that they were no longer any man’s property and shared in what they produced helped in some measure to reconcile them to their lot, though not entirely.

Toussaint divided the whole colony into districts, each commanded by a general: in the east, Generals Clervaux, Paul Louverture, and Pageot; in the north, Christophe and Maurepas; in the west and south, Laplume and Charles Belair. Two captain generals were given supreme authority over these in turn, Moyse in the north and Dessalines in the south and west. The direct result of this somewhat harsh “personal supervision” was an almost unbelievable increase in the annual returns from the plantations.

In his public life Toussaint thought it wise to affect great display in all he did. He knew how Negroes could be affected by tinsel and gilt and how profitably their emotions could be played on by pomp and ceremony. He always appeared in public surrounded by a dazzling retinue. He had a personal guard of 1500 always dressed in brilliant uniforms. Among them he placed with pride bearers of distinguished names belonging to the ancien régime. To give the final touch to his princeliness Toussaint was always preceded in public by two trumpeters, gorgeously dressed in red and wearing silver helmets.

An English officer named Rainsford has left us the following description of Toussaint’s uniform. “It was,” he says, “a kind of blue jacket with a large red cape falling over the shoulders; red cuffs with eight rows of gold lace on the arms and a pair of gold epaulettes thrown back; scarlet waistcoat, and pantaloons with half-boots; round hat with a red feather and a national cockade; these with an extreme, large sword formed his equipment.”

In spite of the magnificence and splendor surrounding him in public Toussaint was modest and simple in private.

While every one around him lived in the greatest luxury and self-indulgence this Negro was the most abstemious of men. His iron constitution and powers of endurance were the outcome of his inner mastery.

He ate and drank sparingly and frequently went for a whole day on nothing but a biscuit or two and a glass of water. And if he could not get the biscuit he would content himself with a couple of bananas or potatoes. He often slept for as little as two out of the twenty-four hours. His daily accomplishments were prodigious. Quite apart from the physical labor his position called for, he employed several secretaries for hours in turn to take care of his correspondence.[1]

He was incessantly active; his whole being was absorbed in his work and he was constantly riding from one side of the island to the other with incredible rapidity. It is not too much to say that this man, this Negro ex-slave, singlehanded had restored order out of chaos, and produced a civil government by all odds more efficient and just than any the unfortunate island had known since the day when the Spaniards under Columbus had placed their spurred boots upon it.

As peace and prosperity became more and more an established fact the amenities of social life reappeared. In his exalted position as governor of all San Domingo Toussaint installed a form of state ceremonial. He instituted a series of receptions. There were two kinds— the grands and petits cercles. In the grand cercles, at which no one dared to appear unless invited, Toussaint wore a simple, undress uniform without gold lace or decoration. This modest costume made an attractive and dignified contrast with the glittering brilliancy of his guests.

When Toussaint appeared in the great reception room, every one, without distinction of rank, sex, or color, rose and bowed. He would then slowly go around the room and make himself agreeable to each one in turn. Then after having reached the door by which he had originally entered he would bow in a courtly manner, incline his head to the right and the left, salute with both hands, and slowly withdraw with a group of officers. Like most court functions of that stately period Toussaint’s assemblies were not very exciting.

TOUSSAINT’S COUNCIL OF WAR INTERVIEWING AN ENGLISH SPY

From an old print

He was insistent on the strictest formality at these grands cercles. He demanded that all his women guests (particularly the white women) should dress as circumspectly as if they were going to church. No low-necked dresses were allowed. On one occasion when confronted by an ultra-fashionable toilette he threw his handkerchief over a young girl’s bosom and remarked in a harsh tone to her mother, “Modesty ought to be the chief virtue of your sex.”

The petits cercles were more or less public audiences. They occurred almost every evening. At these less formal gatherings Toussaint discarded all traces of the military and appeared in a white linen coat and trousers such as the plantation proprietors wore. He also had a big madras wound around his head.

Toussaint unbent a little at these petits cercles and indulged in small talk with every one he chanced to meet. He was amiable in a dignified way to the Negroes who came to these affairs, and he took a keen delight in joking with them, provided they did not overstep and become too familiar. If any one was unwise enough to do this, Toussaint would pause, transfix the unfortunate one with a piecing look, and then ask him a question on agriculture, religion, or some other subject which he knew his victim could not answer; then Toussaint would allow the offender to slink away in a sweat of embarrassment.

He was not devoid of humor. On one occasion a Negro applied to him for a judgeship and Toussaint said, “I think well of the idea.” Then as an after thought he added, “Oh, you know Latin, of course?” “No, General,” replied the petitioner. “What!” cried Toussaint. “You want to be a judge and you don’t know Latin.” Then to the astonishment of the would-be judge he would rattle off a whole jumble of ecclesiastical Latin that he had memorized, convincing the applicant that but for his unfortunate lack of the language he would surely have got the position.

WTien Toussaint retired from these petits cercles to his private quarters he would find there a specially invited group with whom he spent the remainder of the evening. As a rule most of these guests were white men and women. With them he cast aside his official manner and became informal. At these gatherings he made every one sit down. He spoke of France, his children at school there, his former masters, the grace of God by which he had made others and himself free, and the ability God had given him to fill his present position. Then he would question each one present on his or her own particular affairs, always with the air of a friend who is genuinely interested. When Toussaint wished to end these little meetings he would rise and make a low bow. That was the signal for his guests to leave. He would accompany them to the door, arrange special appointments with those who asked for them, and then shut himself up with his secretaries and work late into the night.

Although his attitude toward people was disengaging and simple, Toussaint never was thoroughly frank with anybody. Having been born a slave, Toussaint early in life found it necessary to keep his thoughts to himself, and the habit never left him. He became in time absolutely impenetrable. He delighted in preserving his own counsel and surprising everybody. No one knew what he was going to do. No one knew where he was going or where he came from. It was often believed that he was at Le Cap when he was actually at Port-au-Prince. When people were sure he was at Port-au-Prince he would be at Aux Cayes or Saint-Marc.

This was not mere theatrics either. Toussaint had good reason for keeping his movements secret. Sometimes he would set out in a carriage and allow himself to be seen doing so; a few miles on the road he would get out and allow his carriage to proceed under its original escort while he mounted his horse and galloped off to a destination far away from where he was supposed to be going. He confided, really confided, in no one.

Toussaint owned the finest horses money could buy and kept them in readiness on several different plantations. They were his sole personal extravagance. He understood horses and they understood him. He was a marvelous rider and frequently went from thirty to fifty miles without even dismounting.

His horses were so much swifter than anybody else’s that he often left his entire suite behind him and arrived at his journey’s end alone.

Toussaint’s soldiers looked on him as a supernatural being while the men in the fields prostrated themselves before him as he traveled throughout the country. All Toussaint’s generals feared his voice, while every one else feared his generals. Even Dessalines, the bloodthirsty tiger, did not dare look Toussaint in the face.

No European army has ever been subjected to a severer discipline than Toussaint’s. Each one of his officers gave orders with a pistol in his hand and had the right of life or death over his men.

To show the supreme confidence he had in his army, Toussaint without the slightest hesitation supplied arms to the field workers. He spent enormous sums in the United States for weapons and ammunition, which he ordered distributed to secret depots on several plantations. He never ceased to impress on the cultivators that their liberty depended on taking great care of these depots. To make sure that his orders were carried out he made periodical visits of inspection, and it was a sad day for those in charge if he found anything to complain of.

In the north, where the military chief was Toussaint’s own nephew, agricultural conditions were not as prosperous as in other territories. Toussaint drew Moyse’s attention to this and reproached him for not attending more closely to his responsibilities.

Moyse, jealous of Toussaint’s power, resented his uncle’s criticisms. He put himself at the head of a band of Negroes who disliked the severe labor laws that were imposed on them and made an attempt to resist Toussaint’s authority. Moyse declared to his followers, “Whatever my old uncle may do, I will not be the executioner of my own color. He urges me on in the name of the interests of France, but I notice that these interests are always those of the whites, and I shall never love the whites until they give me back the eye I lost fighting them.”

This speech came to Toussaint’s ears, but Moyse, relying on his position and his relationship to the general-in-chief, continued his defiant attitude.

Not long after, when Toussaint was at Port-au-Prince, a mob of blacks in the north, inspired by Moyse, rose and massacred over 300 white people. Toussaint, when he got the news, dashed back to Le Cap, crushed the disturbance, and delivered Moyse to a military commission for trial. Nephew or no nephew, discipline had to be maintained; and Moyse, after being proved guilty, faced a firing-squad. Toussaint’s execution of a member of his own family made varied impressions. It increased the whites’ confidence in him. It cowed the blacks and made the more thoughtful of all classes wonder where his ambitions were leading him. After Moyse’s experience no one else arose to dispute his authority.

The ascendancy Toussaint acquired over nearly every one he met was remarkable, even more so when it is realized that he was of unimpressive stature and almost repulsively ugly. He neither wrote nor talked like an educated man. Yet what he said carried power. His words were the projection of his thoughts, and in spite of academic deficiencies his mind was powerful and original. He possessed in a marked degree the ability to paint word-pictures of a homely nature that were easily understood by the illiterate Negroes. When he felt compelled to arouse their faltering courage he would take a glass container and fill it almost to the top with grains of black charred corn. Then after he had poured in a few grains of white corn he would say to his men: “There, you are the black corn; the whites who would enslave you are the white.” Suddenly he would shake the glass, hold it up to their fascinated gaze, and say, “See, the white grains are swallowed up by the black.”

At the height of Toussaint’s prosperity Marcus Rainsford, an English officer who had been captured as a spy at Le Cap and saved from execution by the black general wrote:

“His government does not appear to have been sullied by the influence of any ruling passion; if a thirst for power had prompted him alone, he would have soon ceased to be a leader of insurgents; had avarice swayed him, he, like many others, could have retired early in the contest, with immense riches, to the neighboring continent. His principles when becoming an actor in the revolution of his country were as pure and legitimate as those which actuated the great founders of liberty in any former age or clime. . . . In his relations toward other countries he appears to have excited admiration for his justice and the courtesy of every enlightened state: the charges of his most inveterate enemies never extended to a fact that can diminish the well-earned eulogies he has obtained. His rules of conduct were the emanations of a mind capacious and well formed; and but for the exertion of his talents. . . the country now blooming with culture and advancing in true civilization, might have been a ruined state sacrificed to the conflicts of disappointed ambitions and revenge. . . . In his private life, Toussaint lost none of the excellence of that character which is conspicuous in his public actions.”

Rainsford’s glowing eulogy may have been prompted by gratitude for having had his life spared, but his opinion of Toussaint possesses this distinction: it is based on personal contact and first-hand experience.

CHAPTER

XII

IN 1801 Toussaint Louverture was master of the whole island. His will was law. His army carried out his will. For ten years San Domingo had not known such prosperity. From one end of the colony to the other there was peace. And only free people dwelt there. Living was cheap. Every one who worked (and Toussaint saw to it that every one did) was paid for his labor. Planters, merchants, and officers began to indulge in luxury and extravagance. Their homes were magnificently furnished. Irrespective of their color, those who could afford it had hosts of servants to wait on them. Life in general took on an entirely new air.

Under the leadership of the whites, some attention was given to literature and art. Theaters reopened, and according to an English visitor, the black performers displayed considerable talent. Judged by external signs, the future looked brilliant.

Toussaint was at the height of his power. Everything and everybody bowed to his wishes. In all but name he governed as a benevolent despot. The energy and endurance with which he fulfilled his functions as commander-in-chief and governor general amazed all classes. Castonnet des Fosses, a French observer, said: “I am dumb with astonishment to see this Negro, just out of slavery, reveal himself as a statesman, a man of government, in every sense of the term.”

He appointed to important positions the most capable and honest men, white, black, or mulatto. He completely reorganized the public service, rebuilt bridges, and kept the roads in repair. He created schools in every district and visited them regularly. He sent young women—both black and mulatto—to Europe to be educated as teachers, at public expense. He plunged into every kind of activity if he thought it was for the colony’s benefit.

The majority sincerely believed that in spite of the severe military discipline and the compulsory labor laws, San Domingo at last had the administration and the administrator best suited to its needs.

The more enlightened members of society, however, feared that conditions were too good to last. They were certainly justified in this pessimistic view. Ten years of warfare and misery had not made San Domingo a nation of optimists, and few of the white colonists believed that the structure Toussaint had so laboriously erected would be allowed to stand long without interference from the mother country.

Toussaint himself for some time had been anxiously giving thought to this problem. Now that the entire island was under one flag he felt that the best solution of the difficulty would be to consolidate the advantages gained by drawing up a new constitution and securing the approval of the French government.

What worried Toussaint was that the French government at this time meant just one man, Napoleon Bonaparte, and there was no guarantee that France under her new master would maintain the same attitude to the colony’s interests as before his advent.

Toussaint was not blind to the new order of things in France, and the information he received from his special agents in Paris only increased his misgivings. He had not forgotten that Napoleon’s first proclamation sent to San Domingo (after his grenadiers had turned the Directoire into the streets) had evaded recognizing the principle of Negro freedom.

Napoleon referred to Negro freedom as a concession, and Toussaint knew that a concession, besides being conferred, can be revoked. Furthermore, he knew that the First Consul still maintained slavery in Martinique and Guadeloupe; and this did not impress him as a particularly good guarantee for San Domingo’s future. “We are free today,” said Toussaint, “by right of might, and when Napoleon has the power to bring it about we may again be forced into slavery.”

Who, therefore, should initiate the proceedings for a new constitution, the people of San Domingo or the French government? Should the colonists ask the French government to grant them a constitution? Even if France did desire to grant San Domingo a satisfactory code of laws, how could she do so without calling for assistance from the colonists themselves? And if she did not? Were the horrors of the past ten years to be enacted all over again? Toussaint had not forgotten previous attempts of the mother country to establish laws for San Domingo totally at variance with the colony’s interests. And above all, Toussaint felt certain that the new master of France was not the type of man to confer with colonists and invite their assistance in drafting a constitution.

Napoleon did not argue. He acted. Toussaint was well aware that it was not through parliamentary procedure and prolonged deliberation that Napoleon had suppressed the Directory and made himself First Consul. Hardly. Napoleon believed in force, coups d’état and prompt action, and Toussaint feared that there was little to be hoped for at his ambitious hands. He was convinced that the only logical thing left to do was to draw up a constitution, seal it with the approval of the entire colony, submit it to the First Consul for approval, and then see what would happen.

Toussaint wasted no time in putting his ambitious project into operation. He issued a proclamation calling a council together “to frame a constitution providing the colony with laws adapted to the requirements of a young nation living under exceptional conditions peculiar to its latitudes.”

A Central Assembly of ten men was appointed to carry out this work, and it began its sittings at Port-au-Prince on March 22, 1801. The selection of these men illustrates once more Toussaint’s remarkable political wisdom.

He might excusably have called together only his own officers, who would gladly have done as he wished. He certainly might have been expected to have a majority of Negroes among the Assembly’s members. But this far-visioned black selected seven white planters and three mulattoes to frame a constitution. Not one Negro was appointed.

The Assembly completed its task on May 9. Two months later at a great public ceremony at Le Cap the constitution was presented to Toussaint by Bernard Borgella, the white chairman of the drafting committee. He read the following preface, justifying and explaining the necessity for such an instrument:

“The Colony of San Domingo existed several years without definite laws; governed for a long time by ambitious men, its annihilation was inevitable without the active, wise genius of General-in-Chief Toussaint Louverture, who by the most carefully thought-out plans and energetic acts delivered it at almost one and the same time from its foreign and internal enemies; stifled successively all discord from the breast of anarchy, prepared its restoration, made abundance succeed misery, love of work and peace give way to war and vagabondage, security to terror, and at length to submit it all to the French Empire. The revolution had violently upset everything that constituted the regime by which the island was formerly governed. Different legislative assemblies of France had substituted at various periods new laws, but the incoherence of these statutes (revoked sometimes almost as soon as imposed), their evils and inadequacy, acknowledged even by their authors, the manner in which they were executed by factious partisans, inclined to interpret them according to their own special interests, contributed to the general disorder rather than to its suppression; and the natural consequence of this state of affairs has been to regard laws, which should have been received with respect, as instruments of oppression or something to treat with contempt. The wise men who have produced the French Constitution of l'an VIII have no doubt felt the necessity of adopting a new system for the colonies overseas and to take into consideration, in the creation of laws governing them, the customs, manners, and needs of the citizens who live there. It would indeed not be easy merely from reports, often prejudiced and unreliable, to appreciate fully, at such a distance, the changes effected in the minds of the colonists, to understand their problems, and to be able to provide effective and suitable remedies for them, especially during wartime.

“Article 91 of the French Constitution alone would have authorized the people of San Domingo to present to the French authorities a set of laws to govern them if the experience of the past had not made it a pressing duty; and what could be a more propitious moment to select for this important undertaking than that when order is restored from chaos, war prejudices and passions are calmed, and now a new social structure is created? To these fundamental causes, which make a Constitution necessary for the people of San Domingo according to their best interests, are added also these pressing needs: the establishment of courts of justice, importation of new field workers, revival of commerce and the reestablishment of manufactures; the advantages of sealing the union of the old Spanish section with the French; the impossibility of the mother country’s aiding and sustaining this immense colony while at war with the maritime powers; the need of establishing simple and uniform financial laws and to remedy present abuses; the need to resettle absentee owners on their estates, to consolidate and stabilize internal peace, to increase prosperity, which the colony now begins to enjoy once more, to make every one know and perform his individual rights and duties, to extinguish mistrust, and to furnish a code of laws to which all interests will be happily united.

“These have been the motives which influenced the general-in-chief to call a legislative assembly together to compose and present to the French government a Constitution most suited to the people of San Domingo.

“The members of this Assembly wished to keep out of their discussions all passion and strife, but at the same time they made every effort to secure and weigh the opinions of all well-informed men in order that a work of such importance might, so to speak, be the product of the entire colony.

“If the members of this Assembly have not completely fulfilled the wishes of their constituents, if they have not attained the end set for them by the general-in-chief, they have at least done as well as circumstances have permitted.

“The colony can only achieve its greatest prosperity gradually. Good, to be lasting, can only come about slowly; in this respect it is necessary to imitate nature, who does nothing in a hurry. . . .

“Every article in the Constitution has been discussed without heat, prejudice, or partiality, and finally this code of laws has been adopted as the only one that can preserve peace for the colony and bring about its return to its former splendor.

“The Central Assembly has not enough vanity to believe that this is the best of all possible Constitutions, but what it can assure its fellow citizens is that every one of its members has been actuated by a sole desire for their welfare, their peace and lasting prosperity, and to prove their attachment to the French government.”

Speaking of Toussaint’s part in inspiring the committee’s work, Borgella said: “This extraordinary man, whose magnificent achievements deserve your admiration and recognition, sprang phoenix-like from the ashes of the revolution and has ever since devoted himself to the defense of your country, your lives, and your property.”

Toussaint, in supporting the Constitution, said: “You are at liberty to adopt it, and the Constitution which is placed in my hands today is destined to perpetuate your liberty. It reminds all classes of citizens of their duty, and when the law speaks every citizen should listen and obey.”

The document contained seventy-seven articles. When these were read in public they were received with applause. Chief among the seventy-seven decrees was one declaring that slavery was forever abolished in San Domingo and that all men born there were free citizens of the French Republic. Also every one, of whatever color, was eligible for any and all kinds of employment. Roman Catholicism was to be the state religion, although other denominations were permitted to function. Agriculture was to receive special encouragement. The Constitution provided also for free trade—the first measure of its kind in the history of the world. It also stated that “in consideration of the important services which General Toussaint Louverture has rendered to the colony he is named governor for life, with power to choose his successor.”

Toussaint was waiting for the document’s final printing when Colonel Vincent, one of the Consular deputies, who had for some time been absent from Le Cap and knew nothing whatever of recent events, suddenly returned and paid a visit to the governor. This French officer had a sincere admiration for Toussaint and was on a footing of such friendliness with him that he never hesitated to say what he thought. When the details of the Constitution were explained to him Vincent did his best to persuade Toussaint not to go any further with it. He pointed out that Toussaint had been guilty of grave impropriety in publicly discussing an important matter like a Constitution before the French government had even been given the opportunity of reading it. He also warned him that in France there were many enemies who would readily interpret his Constitution as an attempt to secure independence.

Toussaint replied: “I am not aiming at independence. I only seek means to guarantee the rights to freedom my race has already gained.”

Vincent then pointedly mentioned the clause that made him governor for life and asked Toussaint what his ambitions were for himself. Toussaint answered that he wished nothing, that he knew very well his destruction had been planned, that he was convinced that his children would never enjoy the fortune he had secured, but that he was not yet the captured prey of his enemies. Vincent was silent. Toussaint, feeling the Frenchman’s disapproval of his plans, turned to him as if an idea had suddenly struck him. “I can see,” he said, “that you do not wish to remain in San Domingo. Very well, I am going to give you an opportunity to leave. You can go to France and take the Constitution with you.”

This was about the last mission in the world Vincent wished to undertake. He could imagine the reception Napoleon would give him when he presented Toussaint’s code of laws, and the prospect had no attraction for him. But Toussaint was his superior officer, and Vincent could do nothing but obey.

Toussaint had a special copy of the Constitution printed for Vincent to carry to France and added to the difficulties of his assignment by giving him the following letter to place in Napoleon’s hands:

“July 16, 1801.

“Citizen Consul:

“The Minister of Marine in the account which he has rendered to you of the political situation of this colony, which I have taken care to acquaint him with in the dispatches which I addressed to him, sent by the corvette L’Enfant Prodigue, will have submitted to you my proclamation, convening a central assembly, which at the moment when the junction of the Spanish part to the French part had made of San Domingo one single country subject to the same government, should fix its destinies by wise laws, framed with special reference to the localities and the characters of the inhabitants. I have now the satisfaction to announce to you that the last hand has been put to that work and that the result is a constitution which promises happiness to the inhabitants of this colony, which has so long been unfortunate. I hasten to lay it before you for your approbation and for the sanction of the government I serve. With this view I send to you Citizen Vincent, general director of fortifications at San Domingo, to whom I have confided this precious deposit. The central assembly, in the absence of laws and considering the necessity which exists of substituting the rule of law for anarchy, having demanded that I should provisionally put it into execution as promising to conduct the colony more rapidly toward prosperity, I have yielded to its desires; and this constitution has been welcomed by all classes of citizens with transports of joy which will not fail to be manifested afresh when it shall be sent back invested with the sanction of the government. With salutations and profound respect,

“TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE”

Colonel Vincent, accompanied by these two inflammable documents, sailed with a heavy heart.

CHAPTER

XIII

VINCENT had foreseen only too accurately the reception the First Consul would give Toussaint’s Constitution. To Bonaparte such a document was nothing but a flaming insult. And still more irritating was Toussaint’s letter, blandly assuming that his Constitution would meet with approval. It had the air of a communication from one head of a state to another, and the bare idea of a Negro addressing Napoleon in such a manner was enough to plunge him into a sputtering apoplexy.

The First Consul was at this time thirty-two, self-willed, dynamic, all-conquering, bubbling with restless energy, and already intoxicated with golden dreams of a limitless future. Toussaint sprawling across his path was a nightmare to him. Napoleon hated him for what he was and for what he had accomplished. Napoleon, like many others in France, saw in Toussaint’s meteoric career something similar to his own, and the comparison piqued him.

Here, like himself, was a man of force, who had created his own opportunities and carved out his own destiny. He too had become head of a state by his own overpowering merits. He too was a natural military genius who had also proved himself an extraordinarily able administrator. He too had dared to create a Constitution. He had gone further. He had dared to print it and publicly discuss its contents before even submitting it for approval. Napoleon, through a blur of contemptuous hatred, saw in Toussaint a black caricature of himself, whose very success, in some mysterious manner, seemed to cast a shadow over his own achievements. Such a mental picture made a violent assault on Napoleon’s pride.[1]

When he had finished reading Toussaint’s letter he said to Vincent in an angry outburst, “I will not leave an epaulette on the shoulders of a single ‘nigger’ in the colony.” He refused to listen to any discussion of the possible merits of Toussaint’s Constitution but professed to see in it only an audacious declaration of defiance from a despicable black.

Vincent attempted to point out that in spite of its quasi-independent character the Constitution did include a profession of allegiance to the mother country, which was proved more or less sincere by Toussaint’s plea for Napoleon’s indorsement.

Vincent also said that he did not believe Toussaint contemplated any attempt to break away from France. He reminded Napoleon that the English had offered to make Toussaint king of San Domingo if he would throw off his allegiance and that he had refused, through love of France and dislike of the English attitude toward slavery.

Napoleon’s sole reply was that he was going to crush those insolent dogs and teach Toussaint a lesson.

Vincent, taking his courage in his hands, ventured to suggest that any punitive attempts the First Consul might be thinking of had better receive very careful thought. As tactfully as he could Vincent tried to make Napoleon understand the danger of employing force against the colony. He even dared to remark that Napoleon’s army, however brilliantly it might perform in Europe, could not be expected to achieve the same success in the West Indies; that the character of the country was different, and that the climate would annihilate his army if other forces did not. To make his attempt at dissuasion even more convincing, Vincent said he feared that England, as mistress of the seas, would place difficulties in the way of any such undertaking.

The First Consul laughed at Vincent’s fears. “The Cabinet of St. James,” he said, “did want to oppose my plans to send a fleet to San Domingo. I merely notified them that if they did not consent, I would clothe Toussaint with unlimited powers and recognize the colony’s independence. They made no further objections.”

Napoleon’s confidence troubled Vincent. He knew that the First Consul’s ignorance of conditions in the colony blinded him to the difficulties of sending an army of European soldiers across the Atlantic and carrying on a successful war in an island like San Domingo. Out of his love for France he determined to risk Bonaparte’s displeasure once more. He said that, in his opinion, instead of Napoleon’s having forced England to approve of his plans, if he sent such an expedition overseas he would in reality be placing the French fleet at the mercy of England’s navy and the flower of the French army at the mercy of San Domingo’s climate, if it got there.

Napoleon could stand no more. He abruptly ended the interview and dismissed Vincent for his presumption. Because he realized how far Bonaparte was from knowing the truth about the situation, Colonel Vincent, in spite of his rebuff, made a final effort to warn him. He addressed a memorandum to Napoleon which contained the following tribute to Toussaint:

“At the head of so many resources is a man the most active and indefatigable that can possibly be imagined. It may be strictly said that he is everywhere; and especially at the spot where sound judgment and danger would say that his presence is most essential; his great moderation, his power, peculiar to himself, of never needing rest—the advantage he has of being able to resume the labors of the cabinet after laborious journeys; of replying to a hundred letters every day and of habitually fatiguing five secretaries; more still, the skill of amusing and beguiling everybody, carried even to deceit, makes him a man so superior to all around him, that respect and submission go to the extent of fanaticism in a very great number of persons; it may be affirmed, that no man of the present day has acquired over an ignorant mass the boundless power obtained by General Toussaint over his brethren in San Domingo; he is the absolute master of the island; and nothing can counteract his wishes, whatever they are, although some distinguished men, of whom, however, the number among the blacks is very small, know and fear the extent to which his views proceed.”

As a reward for his honesty and patriotism Napoleon banished Vincent to (of all places in the world) an island called Elba!

Vincent had been wasting his time and energy with Napoleon. No power on earth could have persuaded him not to send an expedition against Toussaint. His mind had long been made up, and several days before Vincent arrived in Paris, Napoleon had already begun his preparations.

While Vincent was still on the water the Peace of Amiens had been signed with England. This left Napoleon free at last to handle Toussaint and his blacks as he saw fit. Napoleon knew, however, that in order to win public opinion in favor of his plans he would have to be careful to conceal his real intentions. In Toussaint’s Constitution he recognized the very thing he needed. “Here,” he said, “is a slave in revolt against France. National honor is outraged. Swift and sure must be our country’s revenge.”

Soon all Paris echoed with the precise interpretation of Toussaint’s Constitution that Napoleon wished the people to take. His propaganda excited popular sentiment in his favor. Napoleon’s plans for restoring again to France the most valuable of all colonial possessions were made public. They were received with great enthusiasm, particularly after he declared in the Senate with patriotic fervor that Toussaint was a black brigand whom it was necessary to bring to justice.

Among those who were loud and active in furthering Napoleon’s program was a large and varied host of disaffected colonials then living in Paris. There were in this group many “exiled” planters who yearned passionately for the glories of the “old days.” There were also hordes of speculators, opportunists, and hangers-on who longed for a chance to share the fabulous fortunes Toussaint’s black officers were reported to be piling up. This army of malcontents never ceased making speeches, publishing pamphlets, writing letters, and preparing petitions to have the colony reconquered, the planters restored to their former magnificence, and the Negroes put in their proper place.

Another powerful source of support secured by Napoleon was the mulatto colony in Paris. At their head was Rigaud, in a perpetual state of vengeful thirst against Toussaint. Rigaud, Villatte, Pétion, and many other influential mulattoes offered their services to Napoleon as soon as they heard of his intentions.

Rumors of disorder, massacres, and barbarity in San Domingo were noised around until the urge for action became irresistible.

All this agitation and unrest (which he had had no small part in arousing) was highly pleasing to Napoleon for several reasons. He had already conceived the idea of becoming emperor, and the large number of dyed-in-the-wool republicans in his army made him wonder whether or not they would support such an aspiration. Napoleon was none too sure. He was afraid that these men who had done the almost impossible to establish and maintain the Republic might not be so willing to risk their lives to help him abolish it. This was one reason why an expedition to San Domingo provided Napoleon with such splendid possibilities. It would help him win further honor, punish Toussaint, and at the same time relieve himself of an army of republican veterans. While they were absent in the West Indies who knows what might happen!

In addition to keeping his large and expensive army happily active Napoleon hoped to acquire new prestige in the eyes of France by the reconquest of the Queen of the Antilles, the finest and richest of all colonial possessions of that day. Such a victory would, he figured, make even his most critical opponent overlook the brusqueness of his recent coup d’état and place public opinion squarely on his side in the hope of further glorious adventures.

Another factor in Napoleon’s plans was his anxiety to find a suitable position for his brother-in-law, Charles Victor Emanuel Leclerc, which would place that gentleman as far from France as possible. Napoleon, with a dynasty in mind, was growing more and more sensitive on such subjects as family, birth, and heritage. For this reason he regarded his sister Pauline’s husband in the light of a connection painfully lacking in social luster. Leclerc’s obscure birth piqued Napoleon’s ambitious pride, and his brother-in-law’s swarm of poor relations, openly claiming kinship with the sister of the first Consul, made the great man squirm.

Leclerc was therefore given command of the expedition to San Domingo. Madame Leclerc, always in a flutter of excitement at the prospect of adventure, decided to accompany her husband. The volatile Pauline’s notion of suitable preparations for the visit to San Domingo was to get together an immense suite to help pass the time while her husband carried out her clever brother’s instructions. So sure was Pauline that this journey was to be in the nature of a vast picnic that she took her youngest brother Jerome with her and also her infant son Dermide. She also ordered a collection of tapestries, furniture, pictures, musicians, artists, buffoons, and other accessories to make life worth living in the tropics. Napoleon’s beautiful sister, whom one writer aptly described as half goddess and half courtesan, had reason to remember this expedition for the rest of her life.

Napoleon’s military and naval preparations were on a prodigious scale. No expense was spared. Bodies of troops were held in readiness in various ports in France, Holland, and Spain. Every dockyard from Flushing to Toulon became a beehive of activity. Napoleon paid more attention to the organization of this expedition than he had to the details of his Egyptian campaign. He attended to everything, foresaw everything, and decided everything with the assurance of a god accustomed to command the elements and give orders to destiny.

The troops under Captain General Leclerc were picked from the élite of the French army. They included veterans who had distinguished themselves at Vienna, on the Rhine, and in the Italian campaigns.

ONE OF THE METHODS USED FOR GETTING RID OF REBELLIOUS BLACKS

From an old print

Next in command to Leclerc was General Rochambeau, son of the famous marquis who fought in the American Revolutionary War. Rochambeau had once been governor of Martinique and prided himself on his knowledge of “niggers.” He was a good soldier and a brave man but incredibly cruel. It was this same Rochambeau who won a lasting name in San Domingo by having dogs specially trained to attack only black men, women, and children. Next to Rochambeau were Generals Hardy, Boudet, Debelle, Kerverseau, Lacroix, and Brunet—all men of record and high repute. Last in order were Rigaud, Pétion, Boyer, and other mulatto officers, glad of an opportunity to serve against their old enemy.

In addition to his very thorough naval and military program Napoleon was determined not to overlook anything of a “diplomatic” nature that might be of assistance. With this in mind he suddenly recalled that there were two members of Toussaint’s family at school in France.

These two were Isaac and Placide Louverture, the son and step-son of Toussaint. As a pledge of his confidence in the motherland and a testimony to his own loyalty he had sent them to France to be educated. These boys were living at the Collège de la Marche and felt considerable anxiety when rumors of Napoleon’s elaborate preparations reached them.

Napoleon sent for their French tutor, Abbé Coisnon, and secretly instructed him to assure his two pupils that the French government had nothing but peaceful intentions toward their father, and that to prove it, he intended to send them to San Domingo on a visit.

A few days later Coisnon showed his students a special invitation from no less a personage than the First Consul, asking him to bring the two lads to call on him at his palace. Toussaint’s sons were overjoyed at this mark of distinction.

The visit took place. Bonaparte received the boys with unctuous amiability, easily convincing them of his friendly intentions. He requested the oily Coisnon to point out to him Toussaint’s own son and won the flattered youth completely with these words:

“Your father is a great man; he has rendered eminent services to France. You will tell him that I, the first magistrate of the French people, promise him protection, glory, and honor. Do not think that France intends to carry war to San Domingo; the army which it sends thither is destined not to attack the troops of the country but to augment their numbers. Here is General Leclerc, my brother-in-law, whom I have appointed Captain General and who will command that armament. Orders have been given for you to arrive at San Domingo a fortnight before the fleet, to announce to your father the coming of the expedition.”

The next day the Minister of Marine, at Napoleon’s orders, entertained the two deluded youths at a state dinner, at which he presented them each with a superb suit of armor in the name of the First Consul, together with a brilliant uniform well calculated to appeal to the Negro love of the picturesque. It was a great conquest for Napoleon.

Now everything was in readiness. His colossal plans were completed with such feverish activity that within ten weeks from the signing of peace with England, Captain General Leclerc was on his way to the West Indies with his wife, his baby son, his brother-in-law Jerome, his generals, and 21,000 men—to say nothing of Toussaint’s two boys, proudly strutting the deck of one of the ships in their new uniforms. No expedition ever left France with more assurance of a swift and easy victory.

This formidable force with an incredible quantity of munitions and supplies, complete down to the smallest roll of bandages, required a fleet of eighty-six vessels. This mighty flotilla under the command of Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse was a flattering proof of Napoleon’s solicitude for an insolent “nigger.”

At the very moment when Leclerc was making his final preparations to embark, Bonaparte ordered Talleyrand to write to the British government secretly, to assure them that he had resolved to annihilate the black government in San Domingo.

Five days later he gave Leclerc a letter to deliver to Toussaint; in this he promised that the liberty of the blacks would always be maintained.

Four days after that letter was written Napoleon sent to the Legislature the following pledge: “At San Domingo and at Guadeloupe there are no longer slaves; all there are free; all will remain free.”

Finally he gave Leclerc a proclamation to the blacks themselves; in this he pledged his word that their liberty would never be taken from them.

Unfortunately for the Negroes, Napoleon gave secret instructions to Leclerc in a dispatch which entirely overlooked his published pledges and promises. This historic document was a masterpiece of foresight, anticipation, preparedness, and chicanery. It omitted nothing.

By his secret instructions Napoleon intended to save Leclerc the trouble of thinking for himself. He had thought of everything. All Leclerc had to do was to carry out his orders. Nothing could have been more simple and self-explanatory than Napoleon’s program, which included these specific items:

“The campaign should be divided into three periods.

“The first period shall occupy the first fifteen or twenty days necessary for occupying the strongholds, organizing the National Guard, quieting the well intentioned, assembling the convoys, arranging for transporting the artillery, familiarizing the main body of the army with the customs and topography of the country, and taking possession of the plains.

“The second period shall be when the rebels are pursued to the death.

“The third period shall be when Toussaint, Dessalines, et al., no longer exist, and when 3000 or 4000 blacks retreat to the hills and form guerilla bands which can be destroyed later.

“The conduct of the captain general shall vary with the three periods.

“In the first only the blacks who are rebels shall be disarmed. In the third period all will be so treated.

“In the first period Toussaint should be treated well; he should be provided with everything he may ask for, in order to make possible the occupation of the principal points and to establish French control in the colony.

“When this is done the policy will become more exacting. He will be ordered to reply categorically to my proclamation and letter. He will be ordered to proceed to Le Cap.

“Gain over Christophe, Clervaux, Maurepas, and all the other black leaders. In the first period confirm them in their rank and office. In the third send them all to France, in their rank if they have behaved well in the second period.

“All Toussaint’s principal agents, white, mulatto, or black, should in the first period be flattered and well treated, but efforts should be made to deprive them of popularity and power. Toussaint, Dessalines, et al., should be well treated during the first period, sent to France in the last, under arrest or with their rank, according to their conduct during the second period.

“If the first period lasts fifteen days, no harm will be done; if longer, it means you have been deceived.

“Toussaint shall not be held to have submitted until he shall have come to Le Cap or Port-au-Prince in the midst of the French army, to swear loyalty to the Republic. On that very day, without scandal or injury but with honor and consideration, he must be put on board a frigate and sent to France.

“If after the first fifteen or twenty days it has been impossible to capture Toussaint, proclaim that if within a specified time he does not come to take the oath to the Republic he shall be declared a traitor, after which period a war to the death will begin.

“A few thousand Negroes wandering in the mountains should not prevent the captain general from regarding the second period as ended and from promptly beginning the third. Then has come the moment to assure the colony to France forever. And, on that same day, at every point in the colony, you will arrest all suspects in office, whatever their color, and at the same moment all the black generals, no matter what their conduct, patriotism, or past services; allowing them, however, to retain their rank and assuring them of good treatment in France.

“All the whites who have served under Toussaint and covered themselves with crimes in the tragic scenes of San Domingo shall be sent directly to Guiana.

“All the blacks who have behaved well, but whose rank makes it unwise to let them remain longer in the island, shall be sent to Brest.

“If Toussaint, Dessalines, and Moyse are taken in arms they shall be subjected to a court martial and shot as rebels within twenty-four hours.

“No matter what happens during the third period, all Negroes, whatever their party, should be disarmed and set to work.

“White women who have prostituted themselves to Negroes, whatever their rank, shall be sent to Europe.

“The regimental flags shall be taken from the National Guard, new ones given, and a new organization established. The gendarmerie shall be reorganized. Allow no black above the rank of captain to remain in the island.

“The captain general shall permit no deviation from the principles of these instructions, and any individual who should undertake to argue about the rights of the blacks who have caused so much white blood to flow shall under some pretext or another be sent to France, whatever his rank and services.”

With these instructions [2]to guide him, Captain General Leclerc sailed with a light heart to carry out the designs of his brother-in-law. He anticipated little difficulty in subduing a mob of “niggers,” particularly as a colonist in Paris had assured him that with 4000 French soldiers he could conquer the whole island. Another refugee guaranteed to capture Toussaint if Leclerc would spare him sixty of his grenadiers.

With a swift and easy campaign ahead, was it any wonder that the beautiful Madame Leclerc looked forward to a gorgeous adventure while her husband was occupied with the annihilation of some rebellious blacks who were annoying her august brother?

CHAPTER

XIV

ON January 29, 1802, Captain General Leclerc with two sections of his armada dropped anchor in the Bay of Samana at the eastern tip of Santo Domingo. In eager anticipation of a speedy and glorious triumph he began issuing orders as soon as he arrived.

To take Toussaint by surprise and prevent any concentrated resistance, Leclerc decided to effect landings at several different points all at one time.

He commanded one of his squadrons under General Kerverseau to take possession of Spanish Santo Domingo. Another group of ships with 2000 men under General Rochambeau was to sail for Fort Dauphin. General Boudet was to go to Port-au-Prince with 3000 men and occupy the city, while the captain general himself with General Hardy and 4500 men intended to sail to Le Cap and capture it.

While the French fleet was executing its final maneuvers before dispersing, Toussaint Louverture, hearing of Leclerc’s arrival, dashed to Samana and for the first time beheld the collection of vessels. The size of the fleet staggered him. “We must all perish,” he cried to his staff. “The whole of France has come to San Domingo. She has been deceived and has now come to wreak vengeance and enslave us all again.”

Toussaint Louverture’s agents in Paris had, of course, kept him informed of Napoleon’s intentions as far as they were able, but as the preparations for the Leclerc expedition had been carried on secretly in a dozen different ports and in three different countries, Toussaint had had no real knowledge of the colossal scale of the undertaking.

His own forces at that time consisted of ten regiments of infantry, two of cavalry, and a guard of honor. Toussaint’s entire army at its greatest strength totaled not more than 19,000 men, and these he arranged in three main divisions.

The troops of the north were under Christophe at Le Cap; Maurepas was in charge at Port-de-Paix, and Vernet at Gonaïves. Dessalines commanded in the west and south. The eastern division was directed by Clervaux and Toussaint’s brother, Paul Louverture.

Toussaint himself was commander-in-chief, while his chief of staff, General Agé, was in charge at Port-au-Prince.

In addition to the regular forces under him, Toussaint knew that he could rely on almost every Negro man, woman, and child in the French section to form guerilla bands in case of emergency. He felt sure that when they realized that submission to the French meant slavery, their fighting spirit would be aroused; and in those districts where mulatto loyalty was dubious these untrained mobs might prove useful.

Toussaint’s first despair at the sight of Leclerc’s ships soon passed away, and with a complete understanding of all that the invasion might mean, he braced himself to accept the issue. Calm, self-possessed, courageous, he preferred to risk annihilation rather than submit to a return to slavery.

As Leclerc set sail for Le Cap, Toussaint dispatched special orders to his officers to refuse entry to the French fleet at all ports. He justified his right to do this on a law made by the French civil commissioners, that had never been revoked, which specifically forbade any armed force to land in the colony without authorization.

According to his reasoning the French government had sent an army to a colony of which he was still governor general, without warning him. If its mission was peaceful Leclerc could inform him. If not, Toussaint wanted to let him be the first to commit an act of violence. And he meant to be ready for either emergency.

General Rochambeau had the honor of striking the first blow for Napoleon. With two battalions backed up by two heavy guns he took possession of Fort Dauphin with ease, killing several unarmed Negroes who out of curiosity came down to the shore to watch the French arrive.

While this was being accomplished Leclerc appeared with his 4500 soldiers outside the harbor of Le Cap and haughtily demanded the surrender of the city.

He sent a young naval officer named Lebrun to order Christophe [1] to prepare a suitable reception for him. Christophe’s answer was to demand Lebrun’s credentials. Lebrun refused, saying that Captain General Leclerc had commanded him to deliver his papers only to Toussaint Louverture. Christophe informed him that Toussaint was absent from Le Cap. Following Leclerc’s orders, Lebrun casually let fall a packet of alluring proclamations as if by accident. The captain general hoped these would be picked up and read and would influence the people in his favor to such a degree that Christophe would be compelled to let him land.

Christophe, however, was adamant. He repeated to Lebrun that without instructions from Toussaint he had no authority to act. Lebrun whispered that Leclerc would reward him handsomely if he allowed him to land before Toussaint returned. But Christophe refused to be bribed.

Lebrun remained at Christophe’s palace overnight. He was amazed at the luxury of his host’s surroundings. The furniture, decorations, and hangings impressed him enormously. Lebrun could hardly believe his eyes when his dinner was served on solid gold dishes. Four servants in gorgeous livery waited on him in silence. No one sat with him at dinner, and with the exception of Christophe, no one spoke to him.

The next morning a deputation of four of the leading citizens of Le Cap, including the American consul, accompanied Lebrun back to his ship. While the young officer delighted Madame Leclerc with a description of all he had seen, the deputation begged Leclerc to wait forty-eight hours before taking any definite action, so that Christophe might communicate with Toussaint.

Leclerc explained that France had only good will toward the colony and was grateful for Toussaint’s patriotic services. He said that in proof of this he had brought with him Toussaint’s two sons to restore to their father after the mother country had cared for them for so many years. The captain general also declared that he was the bearer of a token of France’s esteem for Christophe, and he pointed out how unfortunate it would be if Toussaint and Christophe were to commit any act toward him that might be regarded as treasonable.

Then in answer to the deputation’s request, Leclerc said that it looked to him as if Christophe were asking for forty-eight hours’ delay merely to gain time to complete plans for resisting him. He finally gave them a letter for Christophe and said that if he did not hear from him within half an hour after the deputation’s return to Le Cap he would prepare to land his men.

The committee immediately left, warned Christophe of Leclerc’s intentions, and pleaded with him not to attempt resistance. Then they handed him the captain general’s letter, which read:

“I learn with indignation, citizen general, that you refuse to receive the squadron of the French army which I command, under the pretext that you have no order from the governor general. France has made peace with England, and its government sends to San Domingo forces able to subdue rebels, if rebels are to be found in San Domingo. As to you, citizen general, I avow it would give me pain to count you among rebels. I warn you that if this very day you do not put into my possession the Forts Piccolet, Belair, and all the batteries of the coast, tomorrow at dawn 15,000 shall be disembarked. Four thousand are at this moment landing at Fort Dauphin, 8000 at Port-au-Prince; you will find my proclamation joined to this communication; it expresses the intentions of the French government. . . . I hold you responsible for whatever may take place.

“LECLERC”

The tone of this letter did not frighten Christophe. It made him determine all the more to resist Leclerc’s landing. He gathered his soldiers together, delivered a patriotic speech, and made them swear to conquer or die.

Christophe then read the following proclamation from the First Consul that Leclerc had inclosed in his letter:

“The First Consul to the Inhabitants of San Domingo:

“Whatever your origin and your color, you are all Frenchmen; you are all free and all equal before God and before man.

“France, like San Domingo, has been a prey to factions and has been torn by civil war and by foreign war; but all is changed; all nations have sworn peace and friendship toward them: all Frenchmen likewise have embraced each other, and have sworn to be friends and brothers; embrace the French, and rejoice at again beholding your brethren and your friends from Europe. The government sends to you the Captain General Leclerc; he brings with him large forces to protect you against your enemies and against the enemies of the Republic. If you are told, ‘Those forces are destined to rob you of liberty,’ reply, ‘The Republic will not allow that liberty shall be taken from us.’ . . . Rally round the Captain General; he brings you abundance and peace; rally round him. Whoever shall dare to separate himself from the Captain General will be an enemy to his country, and the wrath of the Republic will devour him as the fire devours your dried sugar canes.

“Given at Paris, at the Government Palace, the seventeenth brumaire in the tenth year of the French Republic (8 November, 1801).

“The First Consul

“BONAPARTE”

Christophe’s dictated response to this mixture of threats and cajolery was not very gratifying to the captain general.

“I have dispatched one of my aides to Governor Louverture [he wrote] to inform him of your arrival. Until his reply reaches me I cannot permit you to disembark. If you have the forces with which you threaten me, I shall offer you all the resistance which characterizes a general. If the chance of war favors you, you will enter the city of Le Cap only when it has been reduced to ashes, and even upon the ashes will I still fight you. As to the troops which you say you will disembark, I look upon them as so many cards which the least wind will blow down. . . . As to the loss of your esteem, General, I assure you I do not want it at the price you put upon it.

“CHRISTOPHE”

Leclerc sent another message to Christophe in a final effort to persuade him to let his troops land. Again Christophe defied him. In this fiery exchange forty-eight hours passed before Leclerc, stung into action, gave the order to sail into the harbor of Le Cap. He had made up his mind to keep his promise to Christophe and force his way ashore.

Christophe also had made up his mind to keep his promise to Leclerc. He distributed torches to all his soldiers and began the destruction of Le Cap by setting fire to his own palace. Taking their cue from him, his men, running about the city, left a blazing trail behind them. Everything was done in an orderly manner. Public buildings, government offices, private residences, all burst into flames. Powder magazines exploded, roofs crashed, houses toppled; but no black man made any outcry. In the roaring fires that ascended to heaven the Negroes saw only a symbol of liberty preserved. Only sixty buildings were left standing when Christophe gave the order to stop the destruction.

As Leclerc with his fleet was passing the forts guarding Le Cap the glowing sky told him that Christophe had made good his threat. When he and his men landed they found a scene too horrible for description. Le Cap was a charred ruin. Christophe had wiped out property valued at more than $20,000,000. No wonder Madame Leclerc wept when, instead of the magic city Lebrun had described to her, she found nothing but a mass of ashes.

By the time Leclerc was picking his way among the smoking ruins Christophe and his men had joined Toussaint. Together they proceeded to destroy as much of the surrounding country as they could in order to make the invader’s progress as difficult as possible.

Toussaint, after ordering Christophe to establish himself at La Grande Rivière, marched boldly toward the great Plaine-du-Nord, where he found himself for the first time in direct contact with Leclerc’s troops. Toussaint exchanged a vigorous fire with an advance guard. His horse was wounded, and some bullets made holes in his cape.

In the meantime, as Leclerc and Rochambeau were achieving their objectives in the north, General Boudet was making every effort to capture Port-au-Prince in the west. On the day that Leclerc first appeared at Le Cap, Boudet sent a copy of Napoleon’s proclamation to General Agé (in command at Port-au-Prince) and at the same time informed him of the arrival of Captain General Leclerc and his army, who had come “to protect the colony against its enemies.”

General Agé, overawed by Bonaparte’s threatening sentences, was inclined to give heed to Boudet’s appeal and surrender the city. One of his officers, however, the heroic Captain Lamartinière, the most loyal mulatto who ever served under Toussaint, compelled Agé to reply to Boudet as Christophe had replied to Leclerc by threatening to burn the city if his men landed from their vessels.

General Boudet did not waste any further time in sending a second summons. Next day he landed his troops near Lamentin, a few miles to the west of Port-au-Prince. He then boldly marched on Fort Bizoton, the key to Port-au-Prince itself, and when the mulatto commandant caught sight of the French troops advancing, he treacherously opened the gates and allowed Boudet to capture the fort without firing a shot.

This betrayal placed Port-au-Prince at Boudet’s mercy. The garrison under the none-too-loyal command of General Agé was stricken with such confusion and indecision that they neglected a golden opportunity to set it on fire before the arrival of the French compelled them to leave. They brutally avenged themselves for this loss by indiscriminately slaughtering several hundred whites.

Tired of Agé’s dubious loyalty, Lamartinière placed himself at the head of 4000 men and marched to Léogane to assist in its defense against Boudet’s arrival. In spite of all Lamartinière’s efforts, however, he could make no headway against the attacks. Boudet captured the redoubt that defended the town and forced Lamartinière to withdraw a little to the north, where he entrenched himself at Croix-des-Bouquets.

Here Lamartinière joined forces with Dessalines, who had arrived from Saint-Marc too late to prevent Boudet from capturing Port-au-Prince. When Dessalines learned that the blacks had not destroyed Port-au-Prince he raged like a wild animal.

When a report reached him that Boudet was on his way to Croix-des-Bouquets Dessalines decided to dodge him. He knew only too well what the outcome of a regular pitched battle with veteran French troops would be. He therefore, by a prompt outflanking movement, succeeded in getting behind Boudet’s columns, reached Léogane in time to set it on fire, and made the Frenchman’s capture of the town valueless.

Meanwhile, General Boudet unexpectedly gained another triumph, this time a bloodless one. Laplume, in charge of the south, chiefly inhabited by mulattoes, was so affected when he heard that Le Cap and Port-au-Prince had fallen that he sent word to Boudet that he would pass under his command with all his troops. This was a serious setback for Toussaint.

Further important losses were in store for him in another section of the island.

While Leclerc’s generals were gaining these prompt victories in the French part of the colony his troops were meeting with even greater success in the Spanish.

General Kerverseau with his squadron appeared off the coast of Santo Domingo and demanded the surrender of the capital. Paul Louverture, who commanded the city, refused to give it up without instructions from Toussaint. This led to an exchange of notes with the French, and Paul Louverture sent a messenger to Toussaint for specific orders.

Toussaint commanded his brother to destroy the city if he found he could not hold it. This message never reached Paul Louverture, and when he learned that his superior officer Clervaux had surrendered at Santiago he, too, gave up Santo Domingo city to Kerverseau.

This submission made Leclerc master of the chief coastal towns of the entire island. The captain general, however, was not deluded by these successes into thinking that his mission was completed. Too often the towns and villages his men captured turned out to be merely a heap of ruins, while the rural districts had all been laid bare by Toussaint and his officers. Even though the important ports were in his hands, Leclerc knew that he still had a job ahead of him. In a country filled with so many high mountains guerilla warfare might be kept up indefinitely, and swift-moving bodies of men who knew how to take cover might require a long time to subdue.

And beyond all these considerations, Leclerc had already noted the enervating effect of the tropical climate on his men. They were becoming less energetic every day. If this were true in winter what would happen in summer?

Napoleon had been particularly insistent on finishing up the first stage of the undertaking in short order, and Leclerc was convinced that he had for the moment accomplished all that force would permit. In order to gain a rest from activity in the field he decided to make his path to final victory easier by calling a little duplicity to his aid.

The captain general sent for Toussaint’s two sons, who had not yet been allowed to land. By this time, however, they were well aware of what was going on and slightly bewildered by the nature of Napoleon’s peace mission.

Leclerc explained the unfortunate situation to the two boys and how urgent it was for the colony’s sake that it be rectified. He reminded them that the First Consul had given him a most important letter for their father which, if delivered, would instantly restore harmony. Leclerc added that he was going to give them an opportunity to be of unique service to France, to San Domingo, and to their own distinguished father.

“I have,” said he to the two perplexed youths, “the greatest hope of coming to a good understanding with your father; he was absent when we landed and could not prevent the resistance we met. You must carry to him the First Consul’s letter; also let him know my intentions and the high opinion I entertain of him.”

Placide and Isaac were delighted with their mission, not only because Leclerc assured them it would lead to peace, but also because they were most anxious to see their father and mother once more. The two lads were beside themselves with excitement and could hardly wait for the hour to come to set out for Toussaint’s house at Ennery. They were to be accompanied by their tutor, Abbé Coisnon, who had already received certain private instructions from Captain General Leclerc which might have lessened the boys’ joyful anticipation a little, if they had only known what those instructions were.

CHAPTER

XV

ABBÉ COISNON neglected no opportunity to impress Isaac and Placide with the magnitude of their undertaking and referred continually to the honor and distinction of their appointment as ambassadors for Napoleon. Both youths felt highly important.

All along the way, as soon as it was known that Toussaint’s sons were bringing a peace message from the First Consul himself, crowds greeted them with enthusiasm. The presence of their friendly white tutor seemed a guarantee that the French attacks would soon cease.

Isaac and Placide reached the plantation at Ennery forty-eight hours after leaving the ruins of Le Cap. Their mother welcomed them with joy and immediately sent messengers in all directions to let Toussaint know of their arrival and their momentous mission.

The next night, just before midnight, the sound of horses, the rattle of sabers, and the call of a trumpet announced that Toussaint had come. A moment later he entered, and the excited lads, sobbing with joy, threw themselves on his neck.

Toussaint, overcome at the sight of his children, embraced them as the tears trickled down his cheeks.

Coisnon, missing no part of this highly emotional scene, thought it a favorable moment to intervene.

“Is this indeed Toussaint?” he asked. “Is this the servant and friend of France who extends his arms to me?”

Toussaint, visibly moved, greeted the abbé warmly and thanked him repeatedly for the care and instruction he had given his sons.

The tutor, wishing to get the real business of his visit over as promptly as possible, said: “General, you are going to hear from your own children a faithful interpretation of the intentions of the First Consul and of the captain general of the colony. Believe them, for it is the truth they are going to tell you.”

Eagerly then young Isaac Louverture gave a detailed account of the wonderful cordiality Bonaparte had shown, the presents he had given them, and the generous way he had spoken of Toussaint. Isaac also delivered flattering messages from Leclerc and became eloquent on the subject of his friendliness. Toussaint sat in silence, listening attentively to every word his son spoke.

When the diplomatic Coisnon thought that young Isaac had said enough he presented Toussaint with a handsome silver-gilt casket from which he took the following letter from the First Consul:

“To Citizen Toussaint, general-in-chief of the army of San Domingo.

“Citizen General:

“The peace with England and all the powers of Europe which has just placed the Republic on the summit of power and greatness gives the government the opportunity of occupying itself with the colony of San Domingo. We send thither Citizen General Leclerc, our brother-in-law, as captain general, as first magistrate of the colony. He is accompanied by forces sufficient to cause the sovereignty of the French people to be respected. In these circumstances we have pleasure in hoping that you will prove to us and to all France the sincerity of the sentiments you have constantly expressed in the different letters you have written to us. We have conceived an esteem for you, and we take pleasure in recognizing and proclaiming the services which you have rendered to the French people. If its banner floats over San Domingo it is to you and the brave blacks that we owe it.

“Called by your talents and the force of circumstances to the highest post, you have destroyed civil war, put reins on the persecution carried on by ferocious men, restored to honor religion and the worship of God—from whom all things proceed.

“The constitution you have formed, while containing many good things, contains some which are contrary to the dignity and the sovereignty of the French nation, of which San Domingo forms a portion. The circumstances in which you found yourself surrounded by enemies while the mother country could not succor you nor send you provisions rendered legitimate articles of that constitution which otherwise could not be legitimate, but now when circumstances are so happily changed you will be the first to pay homage to the sovereignty of the nation which counts you in the number of her most illustrious citizens, both for the services which you have rendered and for the talents and force of character with which nature has endowed you.

“Conduct contrary to this would be irreconcilable with the idea which we have formed of you. It would cause you to forfeit the numerous rights you have to the gratitude of the Republic and would dig before your feet a precipice which, in causing your own ruin, might contribute to the ruin of those brave blacks whose courage we love and whose rebellion we should be sorry to find ourselves compelled to punish. We have made known to your children and their preceptor the sentiments which animate us, and we send them back to you. Assist the captain general with your counsels, your influence, and your talents. What can you desire? The freedom of the blacks? You know that in all the countries where we have been, we have given freedom to the nations who did not possess it. Respect, honors, fortune? After the services which you have rendered, and which in this juncture you may render, with the special sentiment we entertain toward you, how can you be so uncertain as to the respect, the fortune, and the homage which await you?

“Let the people of San Domingo know that the solicitude which France has always felt for their happiness has often been powerless through the imperious circumstances of war; that men come from the continent to agitate the island and support factions, were the products of the factions which distracted the mother country; that henceforth peace and the strength of the government will secure the prosperity and the freedom of the colony. Tell them that if to them liberty is the first of blessings they cannot enjoy it except as French citizens and that every act contrary to the interests of the mother country, to the obedience which they owe to the government, and to the captain general who is its delegate, would be a crime against the national sovereignty, which would eclipse their services and render San Domingo the theater of a destructive war in which parents and children would slay each other. And you, General, reflect, that if you are the first of your color who has reached such a height of power and who has gained distinction by bravery and military talents, you are also before God and us the person who is responsible for the conduct of the inhabitants of the colony. If there are evil-disposed persons who tell the individuals that have played the principal parts in the troubles of San Domingo that we have come to investigate what they have done during the times of anarchy, assure them that we shall inquire only as to their conduct in this last circumstance; that we shall search into the past only to discover the deeds which have made them distinguished in the war against the Spaniards and the English who were our enemies.

“Count unreservedly on our esteem and conduct yourself as he ought who is one of the principal citizens of the greatest nation in the world.

“BONAPARTE”

Toussaint read this iron and velvet communication with serious attention. Then as if to engrave Napoleon’s words on his memory he went over it a second and even a third time.

Coisnon, under the impression that Toussaint, if properly handled, would do exactly what Napoleon wanted him to do, hastened to assure him that Leclerc and his army had not come to San Domingo with any hostile intentions. “Even now,” he added, “the captain general would be glad to enter into peace negotiations with you.”

Toussaint replied: “M. Coisnon, you will confess, I am sure, that the messages and the letter of the First Consul are utterly at variance with the acts of General Leclerc. They announce peace, his acts announce war. General Leclerc, in falling on San Domingo like a clap of thunder, informed me of his mission only by the burning of the capital, the capture of Fort Dauphin, and the forced landing on the coast of Limbé. I have just been informed that General Maurepas has been attacked by a French division which he has repulsed; that the commander of Saint-Marc has forced two French vessels which bombarded that city to put to sea. In the midst of so many disasters and acts of violence, I must not forget that I too carry a sword. But for what reason is such an unjust and unwise war declared against me? Is it for freeing my country from the plague of foreign and civil conflict? For laboring for her prosperity? For establishing law and order? If these acts are regarded as a crime, why are my children sent to me at this time to share that crime? If General Leclerc genuinely desires peace, let him immediately give his troops orders to suspend hostilities, and I will do the same on my side. I will write him a letter along these lines, which you, these two boys, and M. Granville, the tutor of my youngest son, will place in General Leclerc’s hands.”

Coisnon was surprised and disappointed at the logic of Toussaint’s remarks. He was also taken back by the feeling behind his words. The abbé made another attempt to convince Toussaint that he should recognize Leclerc as Napoleon’s representative and begin negotiations with him. Toussaint replied that he could not see why he should have to seek service under Leclerc when Napoleon himself still addressed him as general-in-chief of the army of San Domingo. He also expressed indignation because his children had been sent to him as a bribe for his surrender.

Coisnon and the two boys remained at Ennery for two days. Then when Toussaint had his reply to General Leclerc ready, Isaac, Placide, Coisnon, and Granville, the tutor of Toussaint’s youngest son, set out on the return journey with dampened spirits.

Toussaint’s letter to Leclerc was a straightforward piece of writing that could not, by any stretch of imagination, have been pleasing to the captain general. Toussaint began by reproaching him for trying to remove him by force from his position as governor and for not having delivered Napoleon’s letter until three months after receiving it. He also told Leclerc that his warlike operations were not likely to increase the Negroes’ confidence in his peace mission. Furthermore, Toussaint said that he was ready to sacrifice his own children rather than surrender the freedom of the blacks and that he was sending his boys back to the captain general rather than have it supposed that they were in any way bound by him. He ended his letter with a request for time to consider what course to take, as Leclerc’s actions had made him more suspicious than ever of his intentions.

What Leclerc thought when he read these defiant words may well be imagined. Diplomatically putting his feelings aside, he instantly returned Toussaint’s sons to him with a reply of a pleasantly conciliatory nature.

He asked Toussaint to pay him a visit and unite with him in putting an end to the unfortunate disorders that had arisen, giving his word of honor that the unhappy past would be entirely forgotten if Toussaint complied with his wish. He also declared that if Toussaint did what he asked he would honor him with the position of first lieutenant to himself, the captain general of San Domingo.

At the end of his letter Leclerc pointed out that although he had definite instructions from the First Consul not to discontinue operations, he would, however, consent to Toussaint’s request and give him four days to think things over. If, however, Toussaint proved refractory after that time, he would proclaim him an enemy of France and an outlaw!

Toussaint’s answer to Leclerc’s threats was to exert every effort in his power to resist him.

Toussaint made no effort to influence his sons. After frankly telling them that he had decided to fight he said that that decision need not bind them in any way. He wished them both to feel free to choose between France and himself.

The boys embraced him and, with tears in their eyes, implored him to submit to Leclerc. But they could not move him. He felt so certain that the revival of slavery was the real object of the French campaign that he would not risk placing himself and his followers in Leclerc’s hands.

He repeated to his children, “Make your own choice. Whatever it may be, I shall always love you.” Strangely enough, his own son, Isaac, faced Toussaint and declared: “I am a faithful servant of France who can never bear arms against her,” while Placide, his stepson, threw his arms around Toussaint and cried: “I am with you, father. I fear the future. I fear slavery. I am ready to fight against it. I renounce France.”

Toussaint made immediate arrangements to give Placide a commission in his army, while later on Madame Louverture succeeded in persuading Isaac to change his mind and remain at Ennery. To preserve the formalities Toussaint wrote a letter to M. Coisnon, to inform him that his two pupils were for the time being prevented by untoward circumstances from rejoining him.

In spite of everything that had occurred negotiations still continued. Toussaint sent a deputation with an offer to stop all further warfare on his side if Leclerc would do the same. He also asked Leclerc to let him see Napoleon’s secret instructions. As that was the last thing in the world the captain general would dream of doing, he haughtily replied that he was the brother-in-law of the First Consul, that he had an invincible army at his command to enforce his will, and that before he would take his boots off he would have Toussaint begging for mercy. Thoroughly disgusted with himself for having wasted so much time in futile discussions, Leclerc issued the following proclamation:

“Inhabitants of San Domingo:

“I have come hither in the name of the French government, to bring you peace and happiness; I feared I should encounter obstacles in the ambitious views of the chiefs of the colony; I was not in error.

“Those chiefs who announced their devotion to France in their proclamations had no intention of being Frenchmen; if they sometimes spoke of France the reason is that they did not think themselves able to disown it openly. At present their perfidious intentions are unmasked. General Toussaint sent me back his sons with a letter in which he assured me that he desired nothing so much as the happiness of the colony and that he was ready to obey all the orders that I should give him. I ordered him to come to me; I gave him an assurance that I would employ him as my lieutenant general; he replied to that order by mere words; he only seeks to gain time.

“I have been commanded by the French government to establish here prosperity and abundance promptly; if I allow myself to be amused by cunning and perfidious circumlocutions the colony will be the theater of a long civil war.

“I shall commence my campaign and I will teach that rebel what is the force of the French government. From this moment he must be regarded by all good Frenchmen residing in San Domingo only as an insensate monster. I have promised liberty to the inhabitants of San Domingo; I will see that they enjoy it. I will cause persons and property to be respected. I ordain what follows:

“Article I. General Toussaint and General Christophe are outlawed; every good citizen is commanded to seize them and to treat them as rebels to the French Republic.

“Article II. From the day when the French army shall have taken up quarters, every officer whether civil or military who shall obey other orders than those of the generals of the army of the French Republic, which I command, shall be treated as a rebel.

“Article III. The agricultural laborers who have been led into error, and who, deceived by the perfidious insinuations of the rebel generals, may have taken up arms, shall be treated as errant children, and shall be sent back to tillage, provided they have not endeavored to incite insurrection.

“Article IV. The soldiers of the demi-brigades, who shall abandon the army of Toussaint, shall form part of the French army.

“Article V. General Augustin Clervaux, who commands the department of the Cibao, having acknowledged the French government and the authority of the captain-general, is maintained in his rank and his command.

“LECLERC”

In this document Leclerc showed his dubious state of mind only too clearly. In one paragraph he threatened; in another he held out bribes. To draw away the non-combatants from their leaders he promised them a pardon; to incite the common soldiers to desert he offered service in his own ranks, while as a shining example to Toussaint’s officers he recalled what Clervaux gained by his betrayal of their cause. Leclerc’s proclamation with its angry denunciations and its shining promises failed to discourage Toussaint. It merely confirmed the suspicions that had darkened his mind from the moment he first saw the French fleet coming to anchor in Samana bay.

He was convinced, now that Leclerc had thrown aside his mask, that nothing could prevent the war from going on. He was under no illusions. Success meant continued freedom; failure meant a renewal of slavery. Death was preferable to that.

He called his guard together, held a formal review, and then read aloud every word of Leclerc’s proclamation. His guard received it with expressions of contempt, and at its conclusion every one of his men, without hesitation, shouted, “General, we all prefer to die with you!”

CHAPTER

XVI

LECLERC felt that he had achieved something definite when he signed the proclamation that put Toussaint and Christophe hors de loi. He meant to tolerate no more delays, indulge in no more negotiations, and offer no more armistices. Once and for all he was going to wipe out this “nigger” revolution by a swift and vigorous campaign in the best manner of his brother-in-law.

Leclerc knew that his possession of the principal coast towns (most of them a heap of ashes) did not mean that he had conquered San Domingo. That would not come about until he had smashed the rebels in the field. Toussaint’s tactics compelled the captain general to follow the black army into the interior, find it, and destroy it before he could write home definite news of victory.

Leclerc therefore decided to carry the war across the mountains into the enemy’s own stronghold. The arrival of heavy reenforcements from France and the welcome addition of a large number of mulattoes backed up this determination.

With perfect confidence in the outcome Leclerc assembled his forces in the great Plaine-du-Nord and set in motion a plan to crush Toussaint by an encircling movement that was to close in on him from several different directions.

The idea was excellent, but the mountains he had to cross and the nature of the climate made Leclerc’s undertaking incredibly difficult.

Rochambeau was to set out from Fort Dauphin. Le-clerc, with Desfourneaux and the main body of his troops, was to make for the Cordon de l’Ouest and force Toussaint down into the western plains. Then Boudet, marching out from Port-au-Prince, was to crumple him.

According to schedule Rochambeau thundered out of Fort Dauphin and without much opposition cleared a path to Saint-Michel, where he established a strong position. The division commanded by Desfourneaux marched from Limbé and reached the Canton of Plaisance, which, through the treachery of the officer in charge, was delivered to the French without a blow.

General Hardy passed by Grande Rivière and Dondon and came in contact with Christophe on the heights of Bois Pin, which his men scaled in spite of the strength of the black general’s position. The attack was short and sharp. Christophe put up a good fight but was compelled to give way to the French veterans.

Christophe was not discouraged by this severe check. After his forced retirement he re-formed and took up a defensive position before Ennery on the road to Gonaïves. The French attacked him again, and again Christophe had to retreat. In the meantime Rochambeau, having been successful in a skirmish or two near Saint-Michel, established communications with Hardy.

General Desfourneaux, having left Plaisance, joined Hardy, and once more Christophe had to bear the brunt. For the third time in his attempt to bar the progress of the French, Christophe was beaten in a stubborn and bloody encounter and narrowly avoided destruction. These terrific experiences made no difference to the black general. As soon as he could re-form his scattered bands, he dashed off to take up a new position nearer Gonaïves.

Next day Christophe took up the defensive at Coup-à-Pintades, while Toussaint strongly intrenched himself at Ravine-à-Couleuvre in an attempt to stop the progress of the three French divisions under Rochambeau.

Toussaint blocked every possible approach with fallen trees. He had with him his finest troops, the best trained and the most devoted in his army. Hundreds of field workers hurried to join him in what they believed might be their last chance to avert disaster. Toussaint felt still further anxiety when a messenger told him that his wife, her sister, and her two nieces had fled from their home when they heard of Rochambeau’s approach and were hiding somewhere in the mountains near by. Toussaint did everything in his power to stop a further French advance.

Rochambeau and his men utterly disregarded Toussaint’s formidable position. They hurled themselves on him, clambered over his defenses, and in a hand-to-hand fight carried everything before them. Again and again Toussaint’s guards tried to stem the tide. It could not be done. Toussaint, evacuating in disorder, left 800 dead on the field. The only bright ray in this encounter was that some of his scouts discovered where his wife was hiding, and Toussaint sent her under escort to Grand Cahos.

While Toussaint was being beaten at Ravine-à-Couleuvre a superior force was overwhelming Christophe, and for the fourth time he was in retreat.

Leclerc’s ring around Toussaint was closing in. The captain general, overjoyed at the way his plans had turned out, felt more confident than ever of the final result. He did not know whether the Negro armies should be rolled up and destroyed or else pushed to the coast and driven into the sea.

It needed only the arrival of General Boudet to complete the circle around Toussaint, but just when Leclerc was ready to enjoy this final triumph it did not materialize.

At Gonaïves reports reached him that the able black General Maurepas had inflicted repeated checks on Generals Humbert and Debelle and held them corked up in Port-de-Paix. In fact, Maurepas almost captured both generals.

These victories of Maurepas cost Leclerc just enough delay to ruin his plans to corner Toussaint. He became violent when he got the news. He blurted out that he himself would join General Hardy with a large body of troops and assist Debelle in squelching Maurepas. It was not necessary. Before they reached Debelle, Maurepas, having learned of Toussaint’s defeat at Couleuvre and having also been warned of these new French divisions marching against him, recognized that his position was hopeless. Discouraged and despairing of the future, Maurepas sent to Humbert and Debelle an offer of surrender on condition that Leclerc would maintain him in his rank if he served under him. They quickly accepted his terms, and Maurepas, one of Toussaint’s most capable generals, with his men, passed over to the French.

Maurepas’ submission was a terrible blow to Toussaint. It caused him more loss of prestige than all the military checks he had so far received. Leclerc immediately engaged Maurepas and his troops against Toussaint, and so added to the almost insupportable burdens he was already carrying.

Ever since his victory at Ravine-à-Couleuvre Rochambeau had been trying to find out what had become of Toussaint’s main body. He had also been searching for news of General Boudet, who had been instructed by Leclerc to cut off Toussaint’s retreat and join him at Gonaïves.

General Boudet had not kept that appointment, and for a very good reason. As soon as he knew what Leclerc expected of him Boudet split his forces into two groups. He ordered one division under General Lacroix to remain on guard at Port-au-Prince; the other he ordered to join in the encircling movement. This division General Boudet also split into two; the first half, under his own leadership, proceeded by sea to Saint-Marc; the second half, by land to Arcahaye.

Dessalines, however, had been informed of Boudet’s movements. Like a tiger he waited to spring on him when he reached Mont Rouis. A lively fight followed their clash, and Dessalines compelled Boudet, although victorious, to remain where he was until his battered troops could be attended to.

While Boudet was re-aligning his ranks Dessalines took advantage of his delay to retreat to Saint-Marc, which he immediately set on fire. By the time Boudet arrived there the place was a mass of flames.

Dessalines, keeping one jump ahead, dashed off to Port-au-Prince. He hoped in Boudet’s absence to surprise the garrison and carry out the instructions he had received from Toussaint, in which his chief had written: “There is no reason for despair if you can deprive the invaders of the resources offered them by Port-au-Prince. Try by all means to set that place on fire; it is constructed entirely of wood; you have only to send into it some faithful messengers. . . . Watch the moment when the garrison shall be weak in consequence of expeditions into the plains and then try to surprise and carry the city, falling on it from the rear. Do not forget, while waiting for the rainy season which will rid us of our foes, that we have no other resource than destruction and flames. Bear in mind that the soil soaked with our sweat must not furnish our enemies with the slightest nourishment. Tear up the roads, throw corpses and dead horses into the wells; burn and destroy everything in order that those who have come to reduce us to slavery may have before their eyes the image of that hell which they deserve.”

Dessalines’ capture and destruction of Port-au-Prince seemed a foregone conclusion, but both were prevented by two unexpected happenings. One was that the letter Toussaint had sent Dessalines fell into Boudet’s hands and sent him scurrying back to Port-au-Prince; the other was a still stranger occurrence, which astonished the French as much as it did the Negroes.

Two powerful bands of maroons, who for years had maintained their independence in the hills in the face of all Toussaint’s attempts to subdue them, suddenly appeared at Port-au-Prince and informed the garrison of the approach of Dessalines. These blacks offered their services to the French. General Lacroix gladly accepted and told them they could have all the loot they wanted if they attacked Dessalines. The maroons agreed. They took up positions in ambush, and when 1000 of Dessalines’ advance guard walked straight into the trap, they cut them to ribbons. Ignorant of the reception awaiting him, Dessalines confidently marched on Port-au-Prince. He found to his surprise that every approach was well supplied with men. He could make no headway. Every attack was instantly repulsed, and when he learned that Boudet was returning to assist the garrison, Dessalines beat a hasty retreat toward Verrettes.

Although his attempt to capture Port-au-Prince was a failure, Dessalines had kept Boudet so occupied that he could not effect that junction at Gonaïves so vital to Leclerc’s plans.

Toussaint’s main army, after all, had been able to make its escape from Leclerc’s ring of iron.

After his defeat at the Ravine-à-Couleuvre Toussaint’s situation was extremely critical. The slightest misstep was likely to precipitate a disaster from which he might never recover. He knew he had to act quickly if he was going to divide the forces of those who were squeezing in from all sides.

Toussaint put into operation a daring scheme. To deceive Rochambeau he paraded a light curtain of troops in front of him. The French general, thinking that he had the main body of Toussaint’s army within his grasp, jubilantly threw himself in pursuit. Lured away by this small detachment, Rochambeau went off on a long detour. He crossed the Cahos mountains, hunted everywhere for Toussaint, and when he arrived puffing at Verrettes, found that the handful of men he had been chasing had vanished into thin air.

When Toussaint gleefully learned of Rochambeau’s wild-goose chase, he laid plans to carry the attack to the French army’s rear and try to cut its communications. Then with this offensive under way he intended to stir up the field workers throughout the north, raise auxiliaries, and get into touch with Maurepas again, for at this time he knew nothing of his surrender.

Before he put these designs into effect Toussaint went out of his way to visit the most important of all his strongholds—the fort of Crête-à-Pierrot. This powerful stockade on a hilltop in the Cahos mountains had been built by the English during their occupation of the near-by town of Petite Rivière. It guarded the Artibonite valley, and Toussaint instinctively felt that at Crête-à-Pierrot the fate of San Domingo might eventually be decided.

When he had made a thorough examination of the munitions, stores, and defenses, Toussaint solemnly placed the fort in charge of Dessalines, Vernet, and Lamartinière. Then he turned his face to the north.

After one of his lightning journeys Toussaint appeared in front of Ennery. Before a shot could be fired, the garrison defending it fled without stopping until it reached Gonaïves. Toussaint instantly aroused the cultivators. As if by magic he armed them, trained them, and organized them into a respectable militia body.

General Leclerc hastily sent Hardy in pursuit, but Toussaint fooled Hardy by playing the same trick on him that had proved so successful against Rochambeau. He dispatched a small body of troops quite openly in the opposite direction from the one he himself intended to take. General Hardy immediately swallowed the bait and followed. Toussaint’s men led him a merry chase, and before Hardy knew where he was he arrived with his tired columns at Verrettes, while the Negroes he had been pursuing were already on their way back.

Toussaint meanwhile dashed at full speed to Marmelade, where he organized another band of volunteers and put new hope into the town’s inhabitants.

Without taking time to rest, Toussaint left Marmelade for Plaisance, where Desfourneaux guarded Leclerc’s communications with Le Cap. Toussaint conceived the idea of cutting those communications and replacing them with his own. He formed a column for the assault, drew his sword, and led his men in person. His attempt was successful at the beginning of the attack, but as reenforcements for the French arrived Toussaint was driven back. To his astonishment he recognized among these fresh troops the uniform of Maurepas’ Ninth Brigade, and only then did he learn that this trusted general had gone over to the enemy.

Toussaint could not believe the news. Without realizing the risk, he ran toward these soldiers of the Ninth. When he was within five or six yards of them they recognized him by the panache in his hat, which General Laveaux had given him for bravery against the Spaniards.

“Soldiers of the Ninth,” he cried, “do you dare fire on your general and on your own brothers?”

The men were electrified to hear him. They fell on their knees to beg for forgiveness, and the whole regiment would certainly have joined Toussaint if their French officers had not rushed in front of them and commenced firing.

In the confusion Toussaint found himself in a highly dangerous situation. Eventually a company of fusiliers and dragoons helped him back to his own position. A young captain by Toussaint’s side was shot dead, while another officer, bearing a dispatch from Dessalines, was killed at the very moment of delivering it and died in Toussaint’s arms.

Dessalines’ letter told Toussaint that the French were blockading Crête-à-Pierrot and making tremendous efforts to reduce it. Dessalines frankly admitted that he had been unable to free the garrison and asked for assistance. Toussaint, apprehensive of all that a French success at Crête-à-Pierrot might mean, rallied his tired followers and hurried to the fort.

The defenders were indeed in need of help. Unknown to Toussaint, the little band at Crête-à-Pierrot had already withstood three paralyzing shocks from Leclerc.

The first came when the return of Boudet to Port-au-Prince forced Dessalines to give up his attempt to destroy that city. As he retreated, near La Rivière he unexpectedly encountered General Debelle, and not thinking himself strong enough to offer battle, Dessalines decided to lead Debelle into a trap by falling back on Crête-à-Pierrot.

As he retreated he allowed Debelle to pursue him until he was at the gates. Instead of entering with his men, which would have prevented its defenders from firing at the French who were chasing him, Dessalines suddenly jumped into the ditch surrounding the fort. His soldiers, following suit, left Debelle and his men completely exposed to murderous volleys from the garrison. A terrible toll was taken by this ruse; Debelle himself was wounded and his men cut to pieces.

Several days later Leclerc sent reenforcements under General Dugua, and the attack on Crête-à-Pierrot recommenced. Leclerc then ordered several columns under Boudet to join Dugua, and himself came up with two divisions in a further attempt to capture the fort. The defenders played the same trick on Leclerc that had proved so costly to Debelle. Their outposts, scattered along the approaches to the gates, exchanged shots with the French, sounded the alarm, and then took flight toward the entrance. As Leclerc’s men followed, the Negroes disappeared in the ditch and left their enemies to face a horribly concentrated fire.

This stratagem created such confusion in the French ranks that the blacks, encouraged by their success, placed wooden planks in position over the ditch and crossed them in pursuit of their recent pursuers. Leclerc’s troops were driven off with heavy losses, and his second attack on Crête-à-Pierrot proved a costly failure.

These savage checks convinced the captain general that this stubborn stockade could not be taken by assault. He decided to besiege it and starve the defenders into submission.

At the time Leclerc’s investment began, Dessalines was operating in a wide circle outside the fort itself, but still managed to keep in touch with Lamartinière, who was conducting its defense. Dessalines busied himself in stirring up the cultivators, organizing guerilla bands, and annoying the besiegers by repeated attacks that made their nights hideous.

Leclerc, however, inaugurated a tight and rigorous blockade, drawing double lines of circumvallation around the fort and maintaining a continuous bombardment. His batteries did not cease fire for days. During these operations the French soldiers were astonished to hear the blacks inside the walls singing the “Marseillaise,” “Sambre et Meuse,” and other patriotic songs to which they themselves had marched on numerous fields in the sacred name of Liberty. They began to question themselves, and many good republicans wondered if perhaps something besides the honor of France had prompted the First Consul to send them to die so far away from home. But Leclerc gave them no time for such reflections. He increased his activities. Bigger guns were placed in position. Shells shrieked. The walls began to crumble. The end of the siege was clearly in sight.

On the night of March 24, 1802, over three weeks from the date of the first attack on Crête-à-Pierrot, Toussaint made a daring assault on the French lines in the hope of relieving the suffering troops. He was repulsed, but that same night Lamartinière, unable to hold out any longer, determined to attempt the impossible and make a dash through the French lines for liberty. He and his men had endured hunger, thirst, sickness, and were facing what appeared to be certain death. The end was only a question of hours.

Having learned from spies of the disposition of the forces that surrounded him, Lamartinière judged that the weakest segment of the circle was the extreme left under Rochambeau. He decided to make his breach there.

Creating a noisy diversion opposite the spot where he intended to break through, Lamartinière waited until attention was given to his false alarm. Then, inspired by desperation, he and his remnant of a garrison threw themselves into a violent sortie and cut their way through the besiegers, who were too surprised by the precipitous attack to resist. Before Leclerc knew exactly what had happened Lamartinière and the major portion of his men had vanished. Again Toussaint had escaped annihilation.

General Lacroix, who was in action himself for several days at the siege of Crête-à-Pierrot, has left us this generous tribute to Lamartinière’s extraordinary maneuver:

“The retreat,” he says, “that Lamartinière dared to conceive and execute was a remarkable feat of arms. We surrounded him with 12,000 men! He saved himself, lost but a part of his garrison, and left us only his dead and wounded.”

The capture of Crête-à-Pierrot was of inestimable moral value to Leclerc. But the cost of taking it made a deep impression on him. He had lost 2000 of the 12,000 men employed against Lamartinière and his 700! Leclerc feared the effect of his Pyrrhic victory on the First Consul. He instructed his officers not to let the true account of his losses get back to France, as it might not be “good politics.” To make sure that the official report of his success made satisfactory reading to his brother-in-law, Leclerc inserted the details with his own hand.

CHAPTER

XVII

AT Le Cap, Madame Leclerc had been waiting and waiting to receive news of the rebels’ annihilation. It was two months since the expedition had landed, and still the blacks had not been suppressed. Leclerc’s letters, too, were so unsatisfactory to the impatient Pauline. They continually harped on hardships, discomforts, desperate fighting, and small accomplishments. Pauline wondered why things had not gone as her brother had planned.

In her newly erected palace on the hills of Le Cap, Madame Leclerc chafed at her husband’s long absence. She was only twenty-three, and waiting for things to happen was not to the liking of her restless spirit. She did her best to while away the hours in excitement, flirtations, and gorgeous fêtes; but all this waiting was so tedious. She had expected a gay, cheery, active life in the West Indies, filled with pageants, receptions, and grand entertainments. It had turned out so different. Pauline was puzzled.

At last Leclerc’s letter arrived, telling her of his success at Crête-à-Pierrot. He painted it in glowing colors. The end of the campaign was in sight. He would soon be master of San Domingo and then hasten to her side. Pauline was delighted.

Leclerc in his ecstasy ignored the fact that Lamartinière was still at large, busily recuperating his garrison, and that Toussaint still held the upper hand in the interior and still possessed an army, while Christophe and Dessalines were also still in command of effective forces.

Leclerc’s confidence in himself at this period outweighed his judgment. He was so certain that in a little while his rule would be undisputed in the entire island that he grew impatient to display his authority. He impulsively published an order restoring to the proprietors all their former powers over the Negroes working on their plantations!

This tactless move of Leclerc’s exposed the underlying motive of his whole campaign. The whites were almost as much shocked as the Negroes. The planters were so dazed that most of them refused to run the risk of trying to put his order into execution. Even those Negro cultivators who had supported Leclerc because of their hatred of Toussaint’s pitiless labor laws were thoroughly alarmed by the announcement. They could not reconcile it with Leclerc’s promises and Napoleon’s pledges that Negro freedom would be forever maintained. The black soldiers who were serving under Leclerc suddenly lost their enthusiasm and began to wonder if, after all, they were not helping to reshackle their own people as well as themselves.

In this blunder of Leclerc’s and the effect it had on the people, Toussaint saw a golden opportunity of proving to the captain general that he was still capable of taking the offensive. He had noticed Leclerc’s concentration of 12,000 men at Crête-à-Pierrot and figured out that he must have left the northern section very much weakened. He quietly joined Christophe and without a moment’s delay galloped in the direction of Le Cap. Wherever he went he spread the news of Leclerc’s recent order and aroused the whole countryside to this new threat of slavery.

Dashing over the mountains by an unexpected route, Toussaint surprised Desfourneaux at Plaisance and easily defeated him. Without meeting further resistance he marched on through Dondon and Marmelade. The field workers everywhere, at the sound of Toussaint’s voice, flocked to his standard. Though poorly equipped and sadly lacking in intelligent training, these hordes made up for their deficiencies by their fiery zeal.

Toussaint, pouring them out like a stream over the plain, seized French positions and drove detachments of white troops before him like cattle, until they were forced to take refuge within the forts of Le Cap.

Toussaint almost surrounded the city and in all likelihood would have captured it if part of the French fleet had not been at anchor in the harbor. The mulatto commandant, General Boyer, called all the marines and 1200 sailors to help him repel Toussaint’s attack. By this timely action Boyer was able to save the city, although he and his men were driven back.

In the meantime Leclerc, alive to the danger of this new activity of Toussaint’s, ordered Rochambeau to restore his lines of communication that Toussaint had disturbed and to join Desfourneaux at Gonaïves. The captain general also ordered Hardy to proceed at once to Le Cap.

Under the impression that the French had suffered a defeat that would make further offensive movements impossible, General Hardy hurried to Le Cap with the expectation of sailing for France immediately when he arrived.

The indefatigable Toussaint pursued the unfortunate Hardy and worried him like a dog every step of the way. He sent word to Christophe to advance and attack Hardy in front while he tackled his rear. The French were mercilessly assaulted, but in spite of all that Christophe and Toussaint could do General Hardy finally battled his way through a bloody opening, and after dreadful losses, reached Le Cap in a state of exhaustion. Captain General Leclerc found it necessary to leave the south in a hurry and return to Le Cap by sea.

While Rochambeau and Hardy were on their way to the north, Boudet’s division under General Lacroix was ordered to clear the enemy out of the Artibonite territory. Lacroix began operations by advancing to Saint-Marc to attack General Belair, one of Toussaint’s most devoted officers, who guarded a splendid natural position on the heights of Matheux. Lacroix, after a heartbreaking journey, reached his objective, tired and worn, and was agreeably surprised to find that Belair had shortly before left to join Dessalines at Mont Cahos.

General Lacroix remained on the plateau long enough to take possession of the live stock and stores Belair had abandoned, and laden with his booty, he prepared to return to Port-au-Prince. On the way his advance guard of Negroes fired on a column of black soldiers who were marching straight toward them. They fired in return, and several on both sides were killed. It turned out that the column Lacroix met had been sent to assist him. They were also the bearers of a message from General Boudet, with instructions for Lacroix to make a ceremonial procession of his entry into Port-au-Prince in order to wipe out the impression of enormous French losses that the people had received. Accordingly Lacroix ordered his men to march in two files instead of three, and much farther apart than usual. Extra field artillery was also sent to him secretly to add to his own equipment. Flags were flying, drums were beating, and with these theatrical aids Lacroix was able to make a jubilant-looking parade into Port-au-Prince.

The need for this ostentatious procession was revealed in a letter Leclerc wrote to Napoleon at this time. “Toussaint still holds the mountains,” he said. “He has under his orders about 4000 colonial troops and a very considerable quantity of armed cultivators. . . . I cannot terminate this war without occupying in force, after having conquered them, the mountains of the north and those of the west; and in attacking these points I shall always need to occupy all that I now hold where the cultivators are beginning to return. I need 25,000 effective troops to complete the conquest of San Domingo and restore it wholly to France. I have for the moment 11,000 European troops, and 7000 colonial troops on whom I am very far from relying entirely. As long as I am successful they will remain with me, and if I have a reverse they may well serve to double the enemy’s forces.”

The reaction aroused by his order to restore the former condition of the slaves had also sharply increased the hostility of every Negro in the colony, and the captain general became convinced that he had been a little premature in unmasking his real intentions. He issued a new proclamation, intended to blot out the deadly effect of his previous decree and to delude the blacks once more into believing that he had only their best interests at heart.

Leclerc’s new proclamation contained these words: “The basis of the provisionary organization which I shall give to the colony, but which shall not be definitive until approved by the French government, is Liberty and Equality to all without regard to color.”

This announcement was given wide circulation. Particular emphasis was laid on that section which seemed, to those unfamiliar with political expressions, to guarantee Negro liberty. Leclerc, now thoroughly alarmed at the prospect of carrying on the struggle indefinitely and seeing no immediate possibility of a conclusive victory, decided to begin a campaign of negotiation with Toussaint’s generals.

Leclerc was heartily sick of the war. He had lost half his army. The exhausting marches across terrible mountains, drives through thickly wooded passes, with the incessant fear of ambush attacks, had wilted even Napoleon’s veterans. He also had the greatest difficulty in obtaining supplies, for the simple reason that his financial position was insecure. Napoleon, with European methods of making war in his mind, thought that the French army could live on the country they passed through. Toussaint’s policy of fire and waste, however, had compelled Leclerc to depend almost entirely on whatever supplies his ships had brought him. Too often, owing to Toussaint’s attacks on the French lines of communication, Leclerc’s commissary department had completely broken down. And even when he did receive the reenforcements Napoleon sent him, they were no longer tried veterans but raw recruits, of little value in the tropics.

The exhausting climate and the incredible hardships of the life he was forced to lead made Leclerc’s existence a nightmare. He was wearied of fighting such an intangible sort of war against an enemy that left him no rest, night or day. His victories too seemed to mean so little when they were accomplished. Leclerc was worn out in the futile pursuit of an unseizable enemy which split into fragments one minute like quicksilver and then seemed to come together at will later on.

Another powerful consideration prompted Leclerc to see if he could force Toussaint to the wall by enticing his main support from him; he had learned that there was likely to be a new outbreak between France and England, and if that happened he would be in no position to continue a contest so far from home.

These motives were sufficient in themselves for adopting a conciliatory attitude. But there was still another. The dreadful summer season was at hand and an enemy had already appeared that no European troops, however brave, could stand up against. Yellow fever had already begun to do its deadly work in the ranks of the French, and Leclerc saw that if an early peace were not secured, by midsummer he would very likely be in such a weakened condition that even flight from the colony might not be possible for him.

The captain general knew there was no time to lose. His new “campaign by correspondence” began with a letter General Rochambeau wrote to General Belair with an offer of flattering terms if only he would abandon Toussaint. Belair indignantly replied that he had been aide-de-camp to the black chief since he was eighteen and that in good or bad fortune he regarded it as an honor to remain faithful to him.

General Rochambeau refused to hold these words final. He wrote again, in the same strain as his first letter; but this time Belair, without even bothering to break the seal, sent the letter on to Toussaint. That ended all attempts to seduce Belair.

Leclerc’s next venture, unfortunately for Toussaint, was much more successful. He wrote to Christophe, and finding him more “reasonable” than Belair, commenced his negotiations. He explained to Christophe that as France would undoubtedly accept his recommendation to abolish slavery legally, there was no reason on earth for continuing this bloody war. Was it not Toussaint, after all, who was the real obstacle to peace? Leclerc then proposed that Christophe should help him capture Toussaint and earn not only the First Consul’s gratitude but even more substantial rewards for himself.

Christophe replied that such an act of treachery to his chief was impossible for him to consider. He said in his letter: “Show us the laws which guarantee our liberty; then Toussaint, my brothers, myself—all of us—will with joy throw ourselves into the arms of our mother country. How could we believe the words of the First Consul, accompanied as they were by acts of war? Excuse the fears and alarm of people who have suffered so much in slavery. Give us grounds for confidence if you desire to end the calamities of San Domingo; then, forgetting the past, we shall in security enjoy the present and the future.”

Leclerc’s answer to this dealt freely in flowery promises regarding freedom and equality. He swore by God in Heaven that the First Consul had no thought of reinflicting slavery on any of the inhabitants of San Domingo, that all he desired was their peace and prosperity. An interview with Christophe then took place during which more oaths, promises, and flattering protestations poured forth from the eager captain general. His eloquently phrased pledges proved too much for the black. At the most crucial moment of Toussaint’s career his old comrade betrayed him. Christophe delivered up several important positions that he held and went over to the French with 1200 men and a quantity of supplies.

Possibly, under the inspiration of Leclerc’s generous promises, Christophe paid a visit to Toussaint. With all the persuasiveness at his command he told Toussaint of his interview with Leclerc and tried to convince him that the captain general regretted ever having undertaken his expedition and was anxious to end it peacefully with honor to all. Christophe impressed on Toussaint that General Leclerc would be delighted to grant him an interview, too.

Christophe lacked the courage to tell Toussaint that he had abandoned him and was already installed under the French flag. Toussaint did not learn that until after his visitor had left, and before his angry outburst had even had time to subside, news was brought him that General Dessalines had followed Christophe’s treacherous example.

This double blow put an end to Toussaint’s carefully prepared plans for a new offensive. Leclerc now had all his best officers in his service—Christophe, Dessalines, Maurepas, Laplume, Clervaux, and two of his own brothers. His position looked hopeless. Defeat stared him in the face. The bitterness of his betrayal added to his misery. How could he go on alone? He could always secure fresh recruits from the fields to fill up his ranks, but without officers to lead them, they were of little value.

Leclerc did not waste any time. He took advantage of the situation and instantly opened up negotiations with Toussaint. Even though he knew that the black leader’s military power was broken, the captain general did not dare take any other course. He feared that if he attacked Toussaint the entire black population, including the very officers who had so recently surrendered, might rally round him again.

Toussaint, in no position to do otherwise, welcomed Leclerc’s overtures. He wrote that he, too, was disposed to enter into peace negotiations to end a war which no longer had any real aim or object. In order that Leclerc might not get the idea into his head that he was a penitent suppliant asking for favors, Toussaint ended his letter with this defiant utterance: “Some very unfortunate occurrences have already caused a great deal of harm, but whatever may be the resources of the French army, I shall always be strong enough to burn and destroy and to sell as dearly as possible a life which has sometimes proved useful to the mother country.”

Whatever Leclerc’s feelings may have been when he read Toussaint’s note, he suppressed them. He was wise enough to recognize, as General Lacroix said, “that the damage Toussaint had already done gave the measure of what he was still able to do and that although defeated he was by no means conquered.”

The captain general’s reply was tactfully conciliatory. “I see with pleasure, Citizen General,” he wrote, “that you are disposed to submit to the power of the Republic; those who have sought to deceive you as to the true intentions of the French government deserve censure. Today we must not occupy ourselves in recalling past evils. . . . You, your generals and troops, also your supporters, need not fear that I will recall any one’s past conduct. . . . Your generals and men will be employed and treated like the others in my army. As to yourself, you desire rest; rest is your due; when one has borne the burdens of government of San Domingo for several years I am sure one has need of rest. I leave you, as your own master, to retire on whichever of your plantations best suits yourself. I count on your attachment for the colony to believe that you will employ some of your leisure in letting me have your views on the best means of making agriculture and commerce flourish throughout the land once more. . . . I swear,” Leclerc’s letter concluded, “before the face of the Supreme Being, to respect the liberty of the people of San Domingo.”

Toussaint in his reply said, “I accept everything which is favorable for the people and for the army; as for myself I wish to live in retirement.”

There was a further exchange of correspondence and several conferences with messengers from both sides. Finally it was agreed that a meeting between Toussaint and Leclerc should take place at Le Cap and a treaty be arranged.

Toussaint’s journey to the city was one long triumphant procession. Everywhere he went he was greeted as a conquering hero. Leclerc’s solemn declaration that there would be no return to slavery caused the excited crowds to hail Toussaint as their liberator. He was welcomed at Le Cap with military honors, and the moment of his arrival was announced by salutes from the forts and the ships in the harbor. At night the city was illuminated in his honor.

Next day General Leclerc received Toussaint with great ceremony. Toussaint responded with cold dignity and maintained an air of proud sadness. He was escorted to Leclerc’s official residence by his own guard of 400 horsemen. During the entire time that Toussaint was conferring with Leclerc these men remained in front of the building with their swords drawn.

The captain general went out of his way to compliment Toussaint on his magnanimity, his good faith, and his leadership. “Our reconciliation,” he said, “will bring prosperity once more to the island.”

Toussaint declared that he had never thought he would be called on to resist the arrival of an official representative of France in the colony and that if he had only received proper warning of Leclerc’s coming there would have been no war.

“That is true,” answered Leclerc, “but let us forget the past. Everything will be done to promote the future.” Leclerc then turned to the members of his own staff and to Toussaint’s officers who were present and briefly outlined the terms of the treaty he and Toussaint had agreed on. He confirmed his promise to employ Christophe, Dessalines, Belair, and other black officers according to their present rank and then solemnly repeated his oath not to restore slavery.

After the formal ceremonies were over Leclerc said more or less jokingly to Toussaint, “General, supposing the war had continued, who would have furnished you with arms and munitions?”

“You!” answered Toussaint. “I would have taken what I needed from your advance posts.”

And so on May 7, 1802, peace came once more to San Domingo.

The following night Leclerc gave a great banquet in honor of Toussaint, but the great black leader was in no mood for festivities. He remained a silent and sober figure in the midst of all the excitement. His Spartan appetite too was the subject of much comment. While every one ate and drank freely, Toussaint contented himself with a small piece of cheese and a glass of water.

In drafting for Napoleon a report of his negotiations with Toussaint, Leclerc must have thought that the actual facts would sound a little too conciliatory in the ears of his brother-in-law. Leclerc was afraid that Napoleon might not understand. He therefore thought it best to inform him that Toussaint in a meek and penitent state of mind had surrendered and in describing the details of the treaty gave several evidences of a convenient lapse of memory.

Toussaint remained at Le Cap only long enough to see Christophe and Dessalines installed as French generals. He then began his homeward journey, accompanied by a special escort of French officers who rode with him as far as Marmelade. There Toussaint stopped to say farewell to the grenadiers and dragoons of his guard. He spoke to them in glowing terms of the peace that had at last come to the colony. He praised their courage and thanked them all for the loyalty and devotion they had always shown. In a voice shaking with emotion he said that they had done many great things together and now that he had nothing else to give he would leave with them the best of himself—his memories.

Weeping like children, these veterans of a hundred contests took a sad farewell of their chief, and with tears streaming down his own wrinkled leathery cheeks Toussaint Louverture turned slowly away. That night he slept on his own plantation in the valley of Ennery.

Relieved for the first time in almost ten years from the burdens of leadership, Toussaint welcomed the opportunity to rest on his estate. He took delight in superintending work in the fields, repairing buildings, cultivating his land, and generally improving his plantations. He now had time to entertain friends, exchange visits, and pay some attention to the domestic side of life. He passed much of his leisure on horseback and wherever he went was always saluted with deference by the French garrisons.

Toussaint soon discovered that although he had retired, the world was not willing to allow him to remain in seclusion. Officers from the French army, distinguished foreigners, and a host of his own personal friends came to visit him and do him honor.

Leclerc himself went out of his way to please Toussaint, and as a guarantee of his good faith he appointed Christophe head of the police department in the north and made Dessalines head of the department in the west. Everywhere black soldiers laid down their arms and returned to the fields. Negroes from the mountains now dared to come down from their retreats to fraternize with their late enemies.

Cities were rapidly being rebuilt. Commerce began to flourish again. Vessels filled with valuable cargoes again entered the harbors. Peace prevailed everywhere—that is, everywhere except in Leclerc’s intentions.

CHAPTER

XVIII

LESS than two weeks after Toussaint and Leclerc had come to an understanding and just at a time when hopes for the future were beginning to rise, an epidemic of yellow fever, unparalleled in the history of the colony, broke out in all its horror and threatened to extinguish the entire white population.

Within three weeks 3000 Europeans were dead and many more thousands hopelessly stricken. Among the dead were numbers of ranking officers and men holding important civilian positions.

Le Cap and Port-au-Prince overnight became plague cities. Every available building was turned into a hospital. The epidemic spread with furious speed and attacked people in perfect health without the slightest warning. Men disappeared as suddenly as shadows. The sick were avoided from fear of contagion, and for the same reason no funerals were permitted. Death carts made their melancholy rounds at night to gather up bodies left outside the doors like so much garbage and carried them off to lime-pits outside the city limits. No place afforded a refuge. Troops strong enough to be removed to the mountains or the seashore died just as quickly as those left in the towns. Every camp became a morgue, while the warships and merchant vessels in the harbors were turned into floating pesthouses.

In one of his many unhappy letters detailing the seriousness of his situation at this period Leclerc wrote: “If the First Consul wishes to have an army at San Domingo in October, he must send it from France, for the ravages of this disease are simply indescribable. Our losses in officers and civil functionaries are out of all proportion to those of the troops. Not a day passes but I lose some whom I bitterly regret. My helpers are dying and leaving me to bear alone a burden already insupportable.”

The awful daily toll extorted by the epidemic produced a languid sense of hopelessness everywhere. Soldiers who still remained free from yellow fever were in a state of expectant fear that they might be attacked at any moment. Living at the mercy of an enemy no medical skill could curb, they forgot military glory and conquest in a stoical despair.

In the midst of this ghastly decimation the Negroes remained faithful to the peace treaty. Immune from the ravages of the epidemic, they did everything they could to lessen the sufferings of the unfortunate whites. They nursed the sick, received the dying into their homes, and performed innumerable services for those who had so recently been their enemies.

It is highly probable that a united rising against the stricken French could have been accomplished with every prospect of success, but Toussaint made no attempt to take advantage of their pitiful situation. One word from him, and every Negro in the colony would have rallied to his side. But he spoke no word. He made no move. He remained on his plantation at Ennery and to his eternal honor lived up to the terms of the treaty he had signed.

The news from San Domingo of the calamity that had overwhelmed his veterans shocked Napoleon and added the final touch to his bitter disappointment at the treaty Leclerc had made with Toussaint.

A treaty with “that black brigand” was not at all to the First Consul’s liking. He had not mentioned the word in the secret instructions he had given Leclerc. Quick subjugation first, then disarmament, then deportation of Toussaint and the other black leaders; and then the reestablishment of slavery! That was the program Napoleon had ordered him to carry out. It was included in his original directions and had been specifically repeated in a recent letter in which the First Consul wrote: “Follow exactly your instructions, and the instant you have ridded yourself of Toussaint, Christophe, and Dessalines, and the principal brigands and blacks are disarmed, send back to Europe all blacks and mulattoes who have played a part in the civil troubles.”

To Napoleon the submission of the blacks meant next to nothing if they still retained their freedom. And if the blacks of San Domingo were allowed to remain free it would make it just that much more difficult for him to restore slavery in Guadeloupe and Martinique. Napoleon was convinced that the whole French colonial system depended for its prosperity on the reestablishment of slavery, and if Leclerc hoped to regain for San Domingo any of its former glory, he could not begin to follow his secret orders too soon.

Napoleon touched on this again in a letter to Leclerc: “I count,” he said, “that before the end of September you will have sent here all the black generals; without that we shall have done nothing and an immense and beautiful colony would be always on a volcano, and would inspire no confidence in capitalists, colonists, or in commerce. . . . Whatever result sending the black generals to France may produce, it will be only a small evil compared with that of their continued stay in San Domingo.”

The capture of Toussaint seemed of such outstanding importance to Napoleon that when Leclerc was leaving France he authorized him to offer a bishopric to any one of Toussaint’s confessors who would induce him to surrender.

Under the influence of Napoleon’s smoldering resentment, hatred for the black general had become an obsession with Leclerc. Toussaint had thwarted his hopes for a quick and glorious campaign, and although he was now nominally master of San Domingo, he knew in his soul that he had by no means conquered the old man. He had written grandiloquently to Napoleon of Toussaint’s meek surrender, but the fact that he had been compelled to make terms with him was a bitter humiliation. Toussaint was free, and his mere presence in San Domingo was a constant reproach to Leclerc. He knew that this man had only to raise his hand for every black under the French flag to dash to his side.

Stung by Napoleon’s impatient prodding, jealous of Toussaint’s undimmed prestige, weary of his terrific struggles, weakened by illness, and afraid of what might happen to his remnant of an army if the Negroes did rise, Leclerc made up his mind to have the black general arrested if only he could find a plausible reason.

Leclerc wished to catch Toussaint in some indiscretion. He gave orders that his daily life should be under close surveillance. His goings and comings were carefully watched. Every action was spied on. His correspondence was opened in the hope of finding something incriminating.

In their zeal to prove that Toussaint was plotting against him Leclerc’s spies brought him a letter the black general had written to one of his former officers in which appeared the phrase, “Providence will not abandon us.” Leclerc pretended to see in these words a gloating allusion to a hospital at Le Cap named Providence, which at that time was filled with French soldiers dying from yellow fever. But the captain general, even with every desire to put the worst possible construction on Toussaint’s words, could not quite see how they would justify an arrest.

Leclerc made another attempt to trap Toussaint. He wrote him a letter complaining that Commandant Sylla, one of Toussaint’s former officers, now chief of militia at Plaisance, had not yet made a formal surrender, and that if he were not prompt about it Leclerc would send enough troops to compel him to do so.

Toussaint replied that he had written Sylla the same orders that he had given all his other officers, and that he felt sure Leclerc could persuade him to obey without using force. The captain general was so anxious, however, to stir up some sort of trouble to involve Toussaint that he attacked Sylla’s little band. Sylla defended himself, and it was only after a lively engagement that his position was taken. Leclerc then ordered a Negro battalion at Gonaïves to aid the French in a further attack on Sylla. These men refused to march against their own brothers-in-arms and disbanded. Leclerc was sure he had Toussaint in a tight comer this time. He wrote him a bitter complaint against these troops and made threats and veiled allusions in the hope of goading Toussaint to commit some indiscretion. But the black leader refused to lose his temper. He answered Leclerc, recalling the advice he had offered him in his first letter, and gave him no opportunity to misinterpret his words or his acts.

Leclerc had had enough of these exchanges. He decided he would not wait any longer to find a reason for arresting Toussaint. He would employ other methods. Leclerc wrote and asked him to confer with General Brunet, the new French commander at Gonaïves, to advise him about distributing his troops in that district. Toussaint agreed to visit Brunet.

A few hours before Leclerc’s letter reached him Toussaint was warned that two French frigates had just arrived off Gonaïves and had already begun to land men. His brother, Paul Louverture, and General Vernet sent him word secretly that a rumor had reached them that he was to be arrested. Some friendly officers at Ennery had also told him that Leclerc’s aide-de-camp had received orders to seize him. Messages of a similar nature reached him from other sources, urging him to escape while there was time, but Toussaint refused to pay any attention. As he started on his journey friends begged him not to risk his life by going to Gonaïves. He merely said that “to expose oneself for one’s country when she was in danger was a sacred duty, but to arouse one’s country in order to save one’s life was inglorious.”

And so he kept on his way. Passing through Ennery, he noticed a marked change in the attitude of the French garrisons. They had always stood at attention and saluted as Toussaint rode by, but on this occasion they let him pass in silence without saluting. Still he proceeded.

When he arrived at Coupe-à-Pintades a courier met him and handed him the following letter from General Brunet:

“The moment, Citizen General, has come to make known to General Leclerc, in an incontestable manner, those who may deceive him in regard to yourself; they are slanderers, since your sentiments tend only to bring back order in the district which you inhabit. It is necessary to render me aid in order to restore communication with Le Cap, which was interrupted yesterday, when three people were murdered by a band of fifty brigands between Ennery and Coupe-à-Pintades. Send some men there whom you can trust and pay them well; I will be responsible for the expense. There are, my dear General, several things we ought to do together, which it is impossible to arrange by mail, but which one hour’s conference would settle. Had I not been overwhelmed with work I would have brought the answer to your letter myself. Occupied as I am, I must beg you to come to my residence. You will not find there all the comforts which I would like to welcome you with, but you will find the frankness of an honorable man who desires nothing but your happiness and that of the colony. If Madame Louverture, whom I shall have the greatest pleasure in meeting, could accompany you, I should be gratified; if she needs any horses I shall send her mine. Never, General, will you find a more sincere friend than myself. With confidence in the captain general and friendship toward all under him, you will enjoy tranquility.

“I cordially salute you.

“BRUNET

“P.S. Your servant on his way to Port-au-Prince passed through here this morning.”

If Toussaint had known that at the moment Brunet wrote these words the servant mentioned in the postscript was under arrest he might not have continued his journey, but ignorant of what was in store, Toussaint rode on to the Georges plantation, where General Brunet maintained his headquarters.

Brunet greeted him cordially. Together they entered the house and began their conference. After a few moments Brunet excused himself on some pretext, rose, and left the room. Suddenly the door opened, and in burst ten officers with swords and pistols in their hands. Toussaint at first took them for assassins, sprang to his feet, drew his sword, and prepared to defend himself. As he did so, the officer in charge lowered his weapon and said: “General, we are not here to make any attempt on your life. We simply have orders to make you our prisoner.”

Toussaint replaced his sword in its scabbard, casually faced his captors, and said, “Heaven’s own justice will avenge the cause I serve.”

Under a heavy guard he was spirited away at midnight and taken on board a French frigate which at once sailed for Le Cap. There Toussaint was transferred to another vessel, the Héros, where he found his youngest son already a prisoner. As he stepped aboard, Toussaint calmly turned to General Savary and declared, “In overthrowing me, only the trunk of the tree of Negro liberty has been cut down; its branches will shoot up again, for its roots are numerous and deep.”

The day after Toussaint’s treacherous capture General Brunet sent a detachment of soldiers to his house and arrested Toussaint’s wife, his son Isaac, and his two nieces, without allowing them even time to pack their clothes. The house was rifled, money stolen, ornaments and papers removed. The prisoners were taken to Gonaïves like criminals and placed on board a vessel which sailed for Le Cap. There they also were transferred to the Héros, which immediately set out for France.

As the frigate was leaving the harbor General Leclerc wrote an exultant letter to Napoleon with the details of his clever coup. “I have,” he said, “arrested Toussaint and I send him to France to you with all his family. . . . Toussaint is removed! It is a great point, but the blacks are armed, and I must have forces to disarm them. . . . Toussaint must not be free. Imprison him in the interior of the Republic, so that he shall never see San Domingo again.”

Lothrop Stoddard, author of a splendid study of the revolution in San Domingo, says that “the fear of Toussaint’s escape seemed to haunt Leclerc.” In addition to his letter to Napoleon we also find him writing these words to Decrès, Napoleon’s Minister of Marine: “The government must have him [Toussaint] put in a strong place situated in the middle of France, so that he can have no means of escaping and returning to San Domingo, where he has all the influence of a religious leader. If within three years that man should reappear at San Domingo, perhaps he would destroy all that France should have done there. . . . I have taken from the blacks their rallying-point, but I am very weak. . . . For pity’s sake send me aid. Without it I cannot undertake the disarmament, and without the disarmament I am not master of the colony. Do something for us.”

While the unhappy Leclerc, racked with fever, was making this urgent plea for help, the victim of his treachery was on his way to France to learn what it meant to cast a shadow across the path of Napoleon’s ambitions.

During the voyage Toussaint was not allowed to hold any communication with his family. He was kept a prisoner in his cabin, where he was guarded day and night by soldiers with fixed bayonets. Although he was apprehensive of the fate in store for him, he did not believe it possible that Napoleon could be responsible for his arrest—or even know of it. He still retained enough faith in the First Consul’s pledges to feel certain that he would at least be given a trial of some sort when he arrived in France, and so in order to place himself in a favorable light with Napoleon, Toussaint thought it would be wise to let him know something of the circumstances surrounding his treacherous arrest. “Citizen First Consul,” he wrote, “I will not conceal my faults from you. I have committed some. What man is exempt? I am quite ready to admit them. After the word of honor of the captain general, who represents the French government, after a proclamation addressed to the colony, in which he promised to throw a veil of oblivion over the events which had taken place in San Domingo, I, as you did on the 18th Brumaire, withdrew into the bosom of my family. Scarcely had a month passed away when evil-disposed persons, by means of intrigues, effected my ruin with the general-in-chief by filling his mind with distrust against me. I received a letter from him which ordered me to act in cooperation with General Brunet. I obeyed. Accompanied by two persons, I went to Gonaïves, where I was arrested. They sent me on board a vessel, I know not for what reason, without any other clothes than those I had on. The next day my house was sacked and my wife and children arrested; they had nothing, not even the means to cover themselves. Citizen First Consul, a mother fifty years of age may expect the indulgence and kindness of a generous and liberal nation; she has no account to render. I alone ought to be responsible for my conduct to the government I have served. I have too high an idea of the greatness and the justice of the First Magistrate of the French people to doubt a moment of his impartiality. I indulge the feeling that the balance in his hands will not incline to one side more than to another.”

Toussaint was merely wasting his time. The First Consul paid no more attention to his letter than the English government paid to his own frantic appeals a few years later. Toussaint, in spite of all his experiences with Napoleon, had but a faint idea of the First Consul’s real sentiments, or he would not have troubled himself to write to him. The only surprising thing in connection with this letter is that Napoleon thought enough of it to have it preserved in the French archives.

The Héros anchored off Brest on July 2, 1802. Measures of the most extraordinary nature were taken to make sure that Toussaint should not escape. The precautions ordered by Napoleon against this old Negro were so severe that some of the officials wondered if the First Consul were afraid of a sudden rising among certain groups of republicans who were suspicious of his growing imperialism.

Toussaint’s ship had no sooner arrived than Berthier, the Minister of War, himself gave orders to the military commandant of the port that the black general was to be locked up in the Château of Brest and, with Mars Plaisir, his servant, heavily guarded, while the rest of his family was to remain under surveillance.

At five o’clock in the morning Toussaint was led on deck, under guard of an officer and four men. There in the bleak and miserable half-light he was allowed to say a last hurried farewell to his wife and children. Placide, Toussaint’s stepson, was sent to Belle-Isle-en-Mer; Isaac and his youngest son, Saint-Jean, were sent to Bayonne, together with Madame Louverture and her two nieces. With their heartbroken cries ringing in his ears Toussaint was brusquely torn from their arms and hustled ashore, never again to look on their faces.

In the second-hand uniform of a private, accompanied by one old servant, Toussaint Louverture, formerly governor general of San Domingo, for the first time in his life stepped foot on the soil of France, the land of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.

In the meantime Napoleon, overjoyed to learn of Toussaint’s safe arrival, dispatched a warm message of approval to Leclerc: “We wait with impatience,” he wrote, “the arrival of Christophe and Dessalines in France. The capture of Toussaint has been extremely honorable to you and is a subject of tranquility and hope for our commerce.”

Escorted by two companies of cavalry, Toussaint and Mars Plaisir were removed from Brest to Paris, where they were imprisoned for the night in the Temple. This gave Toussaint renewed hope. He was certain that going to Paris meant an interview with Napoleon and then a trial. But nothing like that happened. There was no interview, no message, no explanation, no formal charge. In the strictest secrecy orders were given to hustle Toussaint off to the Swiss border and to place him with the greatest care in the Fort de Joux.

In deference to Leclerc’s request that Toussaint should never be allowed to trouble him again, Napoleon sent these instructions to the general in charge of the prisoner’s transfer: “The government having ordered Toussaint Louverture to be transferred with his servant to the Fort de Joux, you will take the greatest precautions and order those in charge to use the most unceasing vigilance. Take care to select an officer to command the escort whom you will hold personally responsible. This officer must neglect nothing to prevent the prisoner from escaping or committing violence. He must be watched en route day and night, and the guard must be warned against the cunning of this dangerous man. Independent of the escorts of cavalry and infantry placed along the route, the prisoner must be attended during the entire trip by a special escort of gendarmerie who will never leave him until he reaches his destination.” Every detail of the journey from beginning to end was outlined, and even a map of the route to be taken accompanied the instructions for the safe conduct of the two prisoners.

Berthier, Napoleon’s Minister for War, made assurance doubly sure by a dispatch to the general commanding the military division of Besançon: “You will recommend to the commandant of the Fort de Joux,” he ordered, “to arrange every detail for the reception and guard of this prisoner. Order him to exercise the most careful surveillance and to regulate the service at the fort in such a way that all hope of Toussaint’s escape is absolutely cut off. It is the wish of the government that he be held in secret and must not be allowed to communicate with any one but his servant.”

Pages and pages of detailed dispatches under special orders from Napoleon were sent by galloping couriers to different military commanders all along the route to make sure that two unarmed, helpless old Negroes eventually reached that dank mausoleum known as the Fort de Joux.

CHAPTER

XIX

ON August 23, 1802, the gates of Fort de Joux clanged behind Toussaint and his servant Mars Plaisir. Napoleon had paid strict attention to Leclerc’s appeal. “You cannot keep Toussaint at too great a distance from the sea nor in a place too secure,” the captain general had written. Joux certainly was “secure”; history records no escapes from its dungeons. Unknown to Toussaint, two of his old mulatto antagonists, General Rigaud and General Besse, were already confined there; but they never were allowed to meet.

The cell which Toussaint occupied was twenty feet long by twelve wide. The walls were of stone. Near the ceiling at one end of the cell was a small, heavily barred window which provided all the light he was permitted to enjoy. There was a fireplace on one side near the center.

It was midsummer when Toussaint came to Joux. Weather conditions were still tolerable to a sun-loving Negro who had spent every hour of his fifty-nine years in the tropics. It was different when autumn arrived and the mountains were covered with snow. Then cold blasts penetrated the prison, and his dark cell became damp and miserably uncomfortable. Toussaint Louverture, who had never in his life known the meaning of the word winter, crouched day and night over his tiny grate, shivering and shaking.

It was customary for the French government to allow five francs a day for the food and fuel of political prisoners, but with proper regard for the finances of the nation Napoleon gave orders that three francs a day would be enough for Toussaint. The First Consul was not going to waste the state’s money on a “nigger.”

Napoleon impressed on General Bailie, in charge of the Fort de Joux, that he would answer with his life if Toussaint escaped. This official accepted the threat literally. He attended his prisoner like a dog and scarcely ever left him.

Whatever could be done to increase the misery of Toussaint’s situation was done. He was not allowed to communicate with any one, not even with his wife and family; he was forbidden to receive any news concerning them. No one was allowed to speak to him except his own servant, and, in the thought, perhaps, that daily speech with him was likely to overtax the prisoner’s strength, Mars Plaisir was removed after four months and Toussaint was left absolutely alone. When his servant had gone he passed whole days sitting in his chair and gazing up at the sky through his chink of window.

Under no condition was he ever allowed to leave his dismal cell. He ate there, slept there, and was even forced to perform his toilet there. Bailie, his jailer, stood over him as he shaved. His cell contained a bed, no curtains, a commode, two chairs, and a small table.

Napoleon thought of everything in the way of refined torment. He ordered Toussaint’s clothes to be removed in order that nothing of a military character might remain to remind the prisoner that he was ever a soldier of France. He was given an old, worn-out coat and was compelled to wear the trousers and hat of a convict in place of his own. To humiliate him still further, Napoleon gave orders that he was to be known as Toussaint—plain Toussaint—nothing else. “Toussaint is his name,” Napoleon wrote to the jailer; “he must have no other name. You must take away his money, his jewels, his watch. You can let him have a wooden clock—of cheap make. He must have only strict necessities. When he boasts of having been a general, recall to him his crimes, his vile conduct, and his tyranny over Europeans. He has no right to the regard or consideration of humanity.”

As if this were not humiliation enough, Bailie threatened to put Toussaint in irons if he did not confess where his fortune was hidden. He visited his victim several times a day and kept him under strict surveillance. Eventually he grew so suspicious of his own guards that he would not allow any one else to come near him. He waited on his prisoner like a valet. He refused to allow a doctor to see Toussaint when he grew ill, and with remarkable insight into African psychology he gave as his reason that “the composition of Negroes not resembling Europeans, I decided to dispense with doctors or medicine as useless.”

Bailie grew so obsessed by his responsibilities that he scarcely left Toussaint. He assisted at his toilet, received his linen from the laundress, parceled out his food, and performed the most menial tasks with an insane exactitude.

“You can judge,” Bailie reported, “that my occupations at the Château are so multiplied that I have not one moment to myself. I am forced to fulfill the functions of commandant, concierge, and overseer, since I am the sole custodian of the keys of Toussaint’s cell; and I myself am forced, in order to guarantee his safety, to give him all his food there. . . . I understand that Toussaint has no right to any consideration ordinarily bestowed on humanity, that his hypocrisy is a vice with which he is only too familiar.”

The commandant’s attentions became so objectionable that Toussaint felt compelled to protest. “Nothing could be worse than the humiliation which I have received at your hands,” he wrote in his own painfully laborious handwriting. “You have upset me and my cell from top to toe and have searched me to see if I had any money. You have turned everything upside down, all my linen, and you have even searched my mattress. Happily, you have found nothing. You have taken my watch and five or six sous which I had in my pocket. I warn you that all these things belong to me, and you should give me a strict account of them so I can get them when I’m set free. When a man is already miserable, to search out means of humiliation and vexing him in an inhuman way shows neither charity nor consideration. You have taken all kinds of precautions against me as if I were a criminal.”

In spite of insults, humiliation, and the ill-treatment he was subjected to, Toussaint clung to the hope that Napoleon would at least grant him a trial in an open court, where he might be accused of something tangible and be permitted to defend himself. This hope of a trial was with him continually and sustained him in his darkest hours, when the misery of his condition almost drove him mad.

The only trial Napoleon intended to allow Toussaint was a trial of endurance—his health and strength against incarceration in a damp cell on a snowy mountain. Napoleon could afford to wait. Toussaint was no longer young. He had always led an intensely active life. Also, he was a West Indian accustomed to tropical heat and perpetual sunshine. His days in confinement could not be many. Perhaps one winter would suffice. And if he did hold out too long—well, something could be done about it. Bailie could be relied on.

Bailie’s solicitude grew more intensive, but strangely enough, instead of wearing his prisoner out, the unfortunate commandant, in his excess of zeal, succeeded only in killing himself.

Shortly after Bailie had sacrificed himself on the altar of duty, Napoleon sent General Cafarelli, one of his aides, on a special mission to Toussaint.

When he was told that a visitor was coming to see him the old Negro’s hopes rose high. To Toussaint a messenger from Napoleon could mean only one thing. At last he would hear news of his trial. But Cafarelli’s mission had nothing to do with a trial.

Napoleon had sent his emissary to get some information he needed from his prisoner. Rumors had reached the First Consul that Toussaint had secreted 40,000,000 francs somewhere in the Cahos Mountains just before Leclerc’s arrival in San Domingo, and Cafarelli had been ordered to worm the hiding-place out of the black leader.

Sick with disappointment when he learned the real cause of Cafarelli’s visit, Toussaint said, “I have lost something much dearer to me than treasure.”

Cafarelli had no fewer than seven stormy interviews with Toussaint but could get him to reveal nothing. “I found him ill and trembling with cold,” Cafarelli wrote to Napoleon. “He was suffering a great deal and could speak only with difficulty. I pressed him to tell me about his secret trade negotiations with England. He said he had never treated with them as he has been accused of doing. I had seven talks with him, most of them at great length. He boasted of his loyalty and defied any one to prove that he had ever done anything dishonest. He spoke continually about his family and begged for news. He complained bitterly about his arrest and said that General Leclerc had broken his word of honor. I asked him about the rumor that he had shot the six Negroes who had carried his gold to the Cahos Mountains, and he replied that it was a slanderous lie.”

Cafarelli, angered by his failure to get any information from Toussaint, even threatened him with further cruelties but was forced to leave as empty-handed as he had arrived. The old Negro’s spirit could not be broken by threats.

Toussaint, still believing that somehow or other Napoleon himself was ignorant of the facts concerning his case, took advantage of Cafarelli’s visit to ask him to take a letter to his master.

“GENERAL AND FIRST CONSUL [Toussaint wrote]:

“The respect and the submission which I could wish forever graven on my heart . . . [here some words are missing]. If I have sinned in doing my duty it was contrary to my intentions; if I was wrong in forming the Constitution, it was through my great desire to do good; it was through having employed too much zeal, too much self-love, thinking I was pleasing the government under which I was; if the formalities which I ought to have observed were neglected it was through inattention. I have had the misfortune to incur your wrath, but as to fidelity and probity, I am strong in my conscience, and I dare affirm that among all the servants of the state no one is more honest than myself. I was one of your soldiers and the first servant of the Republic in San Domingo; but now I am wretched, ruined, dishonored, a victim of my own services; let your sensibility be moved at my position. You are too great in feeling and too just not to pronounce a judgment as to my fate. I charge General Cafarelli, your aide-de-camp, to put my report in your hands. I beg you to take it into your best consideration. His honor, his frankness, have forced me to open my heart to him.

“TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE”

For days Toussaint waited for a reply, but Napoleon took no notice either of his letter or of the report it mentions. Frantic with expectancy, outraged by his bodily sufferings and mental anguish, Toussaint made one more effort to touch the heart of his powerful persecutor:

“GENERAL AND FIRST CONSUL [he wrote]:

“I beg you in the name of God, in the name of humanity, to cast a favorable eye on my appeal, on my position, and my family; direct your great genius to my conduct, to the manner in which I have served my country, to all the dangers I have run in discharging my duty. I have served my country with fidelity and probity; I have served it with zeal and courage; I have been devoted to the government under which I was; I have sacrificed my blood and a part of what I possessed to serve my country, and in spite of my efforts all my labors have been in vain. You will permit me, First Consul, to say to you with all the respect and submission which I owe you that the government has been completely deceived in regard to Toussaint Louverture, one of its most zealous and courageous servants in San Domingo. I labored long to acquire honor and glory from the government and to gain the esteem of my fellow citizens, and I am now for my reward crowned with thorns and the most marked ingratitude. I do not deny the faults I may have committed and for which I beg your pardon. But the faults do not deserve the fourth of the punishment I have received, nor the treatment I have undergone. First Consul, it is a misfortune for me that I am not known to you. If you had thoroughly known me while I was at San Domingo, you would have done me more justice; my heart is good. I am not learned, I am ignorant; but my father, who is now blind, showed me the path of virtue and honor and I am very strong in my conscience in that matter; and if I had not been devoted to the government I should not have been here—that is a truth! I am wretched, miserable, a victim of all my services. All my life I have been in active service, and since the revolution of August 10, 1790 [sic!], I have constantly been in the service of my country. Now I am a prisoner with no power to do anything; sunk in grief, my health is impaired. I have asked you for my freedom that I may labor, that I may earn my living and support my unhappy family. I call on your greatness, on your genius, to pronounce a judgment on my fate. Let your heart be softened and touched by my position and my misfortunes.

“TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE”

That appeal might just as well have been addressed to the Pyramid of Gizeh for all the good it did its author. Unknown to Toussaint, Napoleon had already “pronounced judgment on his fate” and was waiting with a good deal of impatience to see how long the “old nigger” would hold out.

In the meantime a new commander of the Fort de Joux had succeeded the over-solicitous Bailie. This was Battalion Chief Amiot, and with all the ardor of a newcomer he hastened to carry out the same program his predecessor had established. Amiot’s assiduous attentions soon bore fruit. A rapid decline in Toussaint’s condition began shortly after his appointment. Horrible treatment, bitter cold, penetrating damp, unaccustomed inactivity, and insufficient food, to say nothing of the sorrow gnawing at his heart, completely undermined his constitution. In his sufferings he uttered no complaint.

“He has not asked for a doctor; so I have not ordered one,” Amiot wrote in one of his reports, in which he gave every detail of the progress of Toussaint’s illness. Amiot let nothing escape him. He told his superiors of Toussaint’s hollow cough, his sunken cheeks, his vomitings, his growing weakness, and the loss of his voice, which was fading away to a whisper. He did not, however, find it necessary to report that he had removed Toussaint’s last little touch of luxury—his coffee, something every man, woman, and child in San Domingo, from the highest to the lowest, drinks freely several times a day. This masterstroke of efficient jailership put the prisoner into such a state of despairing quiescence that a short time after his appointment, Battalion Chief Amiot felt he might reasonably venture to take a little vacation in Switzerland. Before setting out on this most unusual journey for a jailer, Amiot left the keys of Toussaint’s cell with a certain Captain Colomier, whom he personally selected to act as his deputy.

Captain Colomier must have been a rather dull sort of fellow, for immediately after seeing Toussaint he asked him if he could do anything to relieve his suffering. When Toussaint told him he craved a cup of coffee Captain Colomier generously sent for a supply. Later when Amiot returned from his mysterious holiday Colomier reported what he had done, expecting to be commended for his humanity.

Amiot said nothing at the time to arouse Colomier’s suspicions, but a few days later sent for him and again announced that he was going to Neufchâtel. “This time,” said Amiot, “I am merely confiding the guarding of the Fort to you. I won’t bother you with the keys of the cells. The prisoners need nothing.” He remained in Switzerland for four days. . . .

On April 7, 1803, Battalion Chief Amiot, according to his custom, unlocked the door of Toussaint’s cell and carried in his breakfast. Toussaint was seated in his chair near the fireplace. He apparently did not hear Amiot enter. Amiot, thinking he must be asleep, approached to awaken him. And he was right. Toussaint was asleep— asleep so deeply that no Amiots in this world could ever arouse him again.

Battalion Chief Amiot, overcome with surprise by his discovery, excitedly called for doctors and surgeons. Knowing what the world might say (and did say) about such a sudden passing, he wanted an autopsy held at once. This was done with all due ceremony and with the required number of witnesses. Every step in the procedure was properly legal. The surgeons, after examining the body, solemnly pronounced that Toussaint Louverture, prisoner of state, had died of apoplexy and pleuropneumonia—two novel medical euphemisms for Napoleonic vengeance.

The one discordant note in an otherwise harmonious inquest was that Captain Colomier refused to attend or to testify that Toussaint had died from any cause other than starvation!

After the doctors’ certificate had been signed a priest was sent for. He mumbled a hurried prayer over Toussaint’s remains; the coffin was then nailed up, and Battalion Chief Amiot saw to it that there was an orthodox burial beneath the chapel in the Fort.

And so, on April 7, 1803, passed Toussaint Louverture, “first of the blacks”[1]—founder of Negro liberty in the New World—slave, coachman, soldier, general, commander-in-chief, and governor general of San Domingo. The invincible Napoleon had won another victory.

Eleven years after Toussaint’s death Napoleon surrendered to the British. They took him to St. Helena. There he lived in his own house, surrounded by secretaries, doctors, companions, and servants. He was allowed to receive visitors, even had some sympathetic friends among his captors, and to the day of his death was free to wander over the island at will. But the British would not call him emperor. To them he was merely Bonaparte. And they allowed him only $40,000 a year to live on. “Each day,” he cried, “the government conjures up new means to torture me, to insult me and make me suffer new privations. I have been condemned without trial, without being heard. In contempt of all laws, human or divine, I was separated from my wife and son.”

In the despair of his own lament Napoleon must have often heard echoes of a cry for mercy from an old, worn-out Negro, once his prisoner in an Alpine dungeon; not long before the end of his life, in a fit of remorse, Napoleon admitted that he was wrong to have sent the Leclerc expedition to San Domingo and even went so far as to tell his secretary that he should have been content to govern the colony through Toussaint Louverture.

In the Champs de Mars at Port-au-Prince, capital of Haiti, there stands today a statue dedicated to the memory of Toussaint Louverture. It does not represent him in all his military glory. He is not astride a prancing charger, sword in hand, beckoning his followers to military victory. No. This statue shows a slave placing a wreath on the head of the man who made freedom possible for his people. It mutely but eloquently epitomizes what Toussaint Louverture dedicated his life to.

EPILOGUE

WHEN the news of Toussaint’s arrest and deportation spread all over San Domingo the blacks were stunned. They were shocked to think that the word of honor of a French officer could mean so little.

Although there was no uprising, a sullen fury at Leclerc’s treachery swept over the Negroes. The captain general’s situation was extremely delicate, and he knew that at any moment an outbreak might take place that would wipe out what was left of his fever-stricken army.

Leclerc’s position was made all the more precarious because almost every able-bodied black in the colony still had possession of the arms and ammunition Toussaint had distributed so carefully. The knowledge of this was a constant nightmare to Leclerc. If he allowed the blacks to retain their muskets it was only a question of time when they would turn them on him; yet if he attempted to take them he might precipitate the explosion. After considering the problem, Leclerc decided to disarm them in spite of the risk involved.

This presented another dangerous angle. The French troops were dying so rapidly that they were in no position to undertake the work. Leclerc, therefore, had to call on the black generals to disarm their own people.

They obeyed his orders and at first everything went smoothly. Laplume took charge for him in the south, Dessalines in the west, Christophe and Maurepas in the north.

Within two weeks Leclerc was able to report to Napoleon: “The black generals now see clearly that I am destroying their influence. Nevertheless, they dared not rebel because they detest each other and know that I should use them for their mutual destruction; because the Negroes are not brave and have been terrified by the war I have waged upon them; because they fear to measure themselves against the man who has broken their chiefs. . . . When disarmament is complete, I shall strike the final blows. If I succeed, as now seems probable, San Domingo will be restored to the Republic.”

To a certain extent Leclerc’s assurance seemed justified, although in the north his disarmament program met with considerable opposition. The cultivators in that region had not forgotten that Toussaint, in handing them their rifles, had said, “Here is your liberty. Whoever tries to take these muskets will make you slaves again.”

Whether Leclerc would have achieved final success or not will never be known. In the midst of his operations the astounding news arrived that Napoleon, entirely disregarding his written oath, had restored slavery in Guadeloupe and Martinique.

He had also sent instructions to Leclerc to do the same thing in San Domingo as soon as he saw fit. Disarmament suddenly ceased, as the full force of Napoleon’s duplicity dawned on the colony.

The news had a terrible effect everywhere. Toussaint’s name was on every tongue, and Leclerc was driven almost mad with expectancy. Napoleon’s unaccountable lack of finesse amazed him. He knew that whatever he might wish to do, he could not possibly restore slavery in San Domingo while his army was wasting away day by day.

Leclerc sent a frantic appeal to Napoleon not to dream of reestablishing the trade in the colony until he told him the time was ripe.

The damage was done, however. It was too late to soften the effect of the dispatch from Guadeloupe. The Negroes knew now for a certainty what was coming, and they resolved not to wait.

The eruption started where almost every outburst for over ten years had first appeared—in the ever-inflammable north. The west then caught the fire of revolt. Contrary to the rule of all previous risings, the private soldiers were the first to swell the rebels’ ranks. As a rule the men blindly followed the lead of their officers. This time they would not wait. Napoleon’s urge to restore slavery in San Domingo had doomed the French army.

“The rebellion grows,” wrote Leclerc. “Disease continues. . . . All the Negroes are convinced by the news that we are about to reduce them to slavery. I can no longer obtain disarmament. These men will not surrender. . . . I can conquer the blacks only by force, and for this I must have an army and money.”

In a later report he pathetically admits: “To have got rid of Toussaint is not enough. There are two thousand more leaders to get rid of as well.”

August and September passed, but contrary to all precedents, the fever still raged. Each day Leclerc’s situation grew more desperate. Each day the insurrection spread. Black officers were now joining the soldiers, and everywhere the French were abandoning territory. Reenforcements melted away almost as quickly as they landed from the vessels. The condition of the French was so weakened that the Negroes began openly killing their white officers before deserting.

Leclerc’s losses were frightful. His men were dying of fever at the rate of a hundred a day. Since the epidemic had commenced its ravages, over 5000 sailors had perished. The expedition had already cost him nearly 30,000 men, and the end was not yet in sight.

October arrived. Still there was no sign of the disease’s abating. Leclerc became thoroughly despondent. “Here is my opinion of this country,” he wrote. “We must destroy all the mountain Negroes, men and women, sparing only children under twelve years of age. We must destroy half the Negroes of the plains and not allow in the colony a single man who has worn an epaulette. Without these measures the colony will never be at peace. . . . ”

This letter was destined to be the last the unhappy captain general ever wrote. For some time he had been battling heroically with an attack of malaria, and at the moment when the doctors were expecting a complete recovery, yellow fever in its most virulent form seized him.

On November 2, 1802, less than three months after his arrest of Toussaint Louverture, Leclerc was dead. A brave soldier, energetic, forceful, and blindly faithful to the commands of the First Consul, Charles Victor Emanuel Leclerc was singularly lacking in those administrative qualities necessary to deal with problems such as he had to face in San Domingo. All things considered, that he succeeded as well as he did is to his credit.

Pauline gave orders that her husband’s body be embalmed at once. Thickly swathed in flowing mourning, the lovely young widow, with ostentatious ceremony, took Leclerc’s remains back to France.[1] Napoleon honored his late brother-in-law with a splendid military funeral. He commanded that the coffin be placed with those of other national heroes in the Panthéon, erected a statue in Leclerc’s memory, and then forever after heaped all the blame on him for the failure of his expedition.

The death of Leclerc stiffened the resolution of the insurgent blacks. And now they received new assistance. The mulattoes, always, as a class, the bitterest enemies of the Negroes, were so completely convinced by events in Guadeloupe and Martinique that white interests could no longer be theirs that they began to join the rebellion.

Pétion, a mulatto of education and great ability, who had been brought from France to fight against Toussaint, deserted with all his men. “How could Toussaint have trusted the whites as he did,” said Pétion, “when my own father will not have anything to do with me?”

Clervaux, in command of the mulatto garrison at Le Cap, also deserted and at the head of 10,000 Negroes almost captured the city.

Christophe then took advantage of the situation and threw off allegiance to the French. Lastly, Dessalines revolted, and soon every one of the black leaders was in open rebellion against the whites.

Fifteen days after Leclerc’s passing all that the French had left was an insecure hold on Le Cap and Môle-Saint-Nicolas in the north and several coastal towns in the west. The remainder of French San Domingo was in black hands.

General Rochambeau succeeded Leclerc as governor general. He had lived as a planter in San Domingo and boasted of his ability to handle “niggers.” A man of personal bravery, an able military leader and skillful strategist, Rochambeau was cursed with a sadistic streak that made him the most hated French officer who ever set foot in the colony.

He began his campaign with characteristic energy and by March, 1803, had pushed the insurgents almost entirely out of the open country and compelled them to retreat to their hiding-place in the mountains.

Rochambeau had no intention of leaving them there in peace. He imported from Cuba packs of man-eating dogs which were trained especially to attack and devour Negroes only, and with fiendish ingenuity he turned these starving beasts loose in the hills.

Rochambeau also instituted general massacres of prisoners and varied his executions by ferrying boatloads of chained blacks out into the harbor and casting them overboard.

His initial successes made him most optimistic as to the ultimate outcome. Some of this enthusiasm he transmitted to Napoleon, who had already begun to equip a new army of 15,000 men which, he promised Rochambeau, would be in San Domingo by autumn.

On May 12, 1803, however, Great Britain, tired of the Peace of Amiens, decided on a new war with France. This led to a blockade by the English fleet, which made all contact between France and San Domingo utterly impossible. Rochambeau’s reenforcements and supplies suddenly ceased.

This powerful assistance from the English made the final stages comparatively easy for the Negroes. By October the whole of the south was in their hands. A few weeks later Rochambeau was at last compelled to abandon Port-au-Prince.

On land the insurgents were supreme. At sea the British blocked the way. Rochambeau offered to capitulate. On November 19, 1803, articles were signed, stipulating that the French should evacuate Le Cap within ten days with all their supplies; that they should withdraw to their ships with all the honors of war; that they should leave their sick and wounded in the hospitals to be cared for by the blacks until they were well enough to be sent to France.

On November 29 Rochambeau sailed out of the harbor of Le Cap and surrendered himself to the British Admiral Duckworth. With his departure white authority in San Domingo ended forever. In two years 50,000 soldiers had lost their lives, while 10,000 sailors were swept away by yellow fever. Napoleon’s thirst for revenge on an insolent Negro proved a costly venture, ending only in disaster.

In December, 1803, eight months after Toussaint had perished in his cell at Joux, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, “the Tiger,” was chosen governor general of San Domingo.

In the presence of black and mulatto officers, surrounded by his army and a dense mass of enthusiastic supporters, he dramatically snatched the tricolor of France from its standard. With his own powerful hands he tore the flag into three strips. The red and black he held up together and announced that henceforth those two colors would constitute the country’s flag. The white strip he crumpled, threw it to the ground, and stamped on it with contempt, while the crowd roared its appreciation of the symbolism.

The cherished dream of the old black coachman on Bréda plantation had at last come to pass, and for the first time in the world’s history an enslaved people had succeeded in gaining their own freedom.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adams, Henry: NAPOLEON I. AND SAN DOMINGO. In Historical Essays, New York, 1891.

Andre, Marius: COLUMBUS. New York, 1928.

Balch, Emily G., editor: OCCUPIED HAITI. New York, 1927.

Basket, Sir James: THE HISTORY OF TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE. London, 1814.

Beard, John R.: THE LIFE OF TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE. London, 1853.

Brion, Marcel: BARTOLOME DE LAS CASAS. New York, 1929.

Columbus, Christopher: JOURNAL OF HIS FIRST VOYAGE. New York, 1924.

Cordon, Garron J.: AN INQUIRY INTO THE CAUSES OF THE INSURRECTION OF SAN DOMINGO . London, 1792.

Davis, H. P.: BLACK DEMOCRACY. New York, 1928.

Dorsainvil, J. C.: MANUEL D’HISTOIRE D’HAITI. Port-au-Prince, 1926.

Edwards, Bryan: HISTORY OF THE WEST INDIES. London, 1810.

Edwards, Bryan: AN HISTORICAL, SURVEY OF THE FRENCH COLONY OF SAN DOMINGO, ETC. London, 1796.

Fosses, Castonnet des: LA REVOLUTION DE SAINT-DO-MINGUE. Paris, 1893.

Graham, Harry: SPLENDID FAILURES. London, 1913.

Green, Frederick C.: EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FRANCE. London, 1929.

Hazard, Samuel: SAN DOMINGO PAST AND PRESENT. New York, 1873.

Howard, Lieutenant: MS. JOURNAL OF EVENTS ON SERVICE WITH THE BRITISH IN SAN DOMINGO. Boston Public Library.

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Lacroix, Pamphile de: MEMOIRES POUR SERVIR A L’HISTOIRE DE LA REVOLUTION DE SAINT-DOMINGUE. Paris, 1819.

Lamartine, A.: TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE, POEME DRAMATIFTUE. Paris, 1850.

LETTERS OF TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE AND EDWARD STEVENS,  1796-1800. In American Historical Review, New York, 1810.

Mackenzie, Charles: NOTES ON HAITI. London, 1830.

Martineau, Harriet: THE HOUR AND THE MAN. New York, 1873.

Metral, A.: HISTOIRE DE L’EXPEDITION DES FRANCAIS SAINT-DOMINGUE, MEMOIRES ET NOTES D’ISAAC LOU-VERTURE.  Paris, 1825.

Moreau de Saint-Mery, M. L. E.: DESCRIPTION DE EAPARTIE ESPAGNOLE DE L’LLE DE SAINT-DOMINGUE. Philadelphia, 1799.

Mossell, C. W.: TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE. Lockport, New York, 1896.

Nemours, Colonel Alfred: HISTOIRE MILITAIRE DE DAGUERRE D’INDEPENDANCE DE SAINT-DOMINGUE . Paris, 1928.

Niles, Blair: BLACK HAITI. New York, 1926.

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Rainsford, Marcus: AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE BLACK EMPIRE OF HAYTI.  London, 1805.

Redpath, James, editor: TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE, A BIOGRAPHY AND AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Boston, 1863.

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Vandercook, John W.: BLACK MAJESTY. New York, 1928.

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NOTES

Chapter 1

1 A cacique named Hatuey who had fled to Cuba was about to be burned at the stake for having escaped from slavery, and a Franciscan friar in attempting a last-minute conversion pointed out to him the joys of Heaven if only he would embrace Christianity. “Are there any Spaniards there?” asked the simple savage. “Yes,” replied the monk. “Then,” said Hatuey, “I don’t want to go where I may meet with even one of that accursed race.” Back

Chapter 2

1 A boucan was simply a frame of boughs on which the meat was spitted. Under this a slow fire was kept up which partly dry-smoked and partly cooked the meat. Back

2. A Creole was simply a person born in a colony as distinct from one born in his mother country; in other words a colonial. Back

3. A pure-blooded Negro was never called a “colored” man. Only mulattoes were entitled to this distinction. Back

Chapter 3

1. On one ship space was so limited that the seven hundred slaves it carried were packed in two layers, one on top of the other. Back

Chapter 4

1. The exact day and year of Toussaint’s birth are unknown. Back

2. The origin of the name Louverture is obscure. There have been several guesses, most of them highly fantastic. The most reasonable explanation is that Toussaint took the name himself as a symbol of his efforts to be the “opener” (l’ouverture) of the door to liberty for his fellow slaves. Back

3. Several years later when Toussaint had risen to supreme power he did not forget his former master, who had himself fallen on evil days. In a letter addressed to the chief legislative body Toussaint wrote for authority to be given Bayou de Libertas to return from France to San Domingo, where his former slaves would give him the means to live in grateful remembrance of his own kindness to them. Back

4. To this day most of the Haitian peasants cannot afford to have a legal marriage ceremony performed. Back

Chapter 8

1. Rigaud was the son of a French nobleman and a black woman. He had been educated In France and had seen service at Savannah and Guadeloupe. Brave and honest, Rigaud was cursed with an ungovernable temper that finally prevented him from fulfilling the promise of his great natural gifts. Back

Chapter 11

1. Toussaint never mastered the French language. He always dictated in creole, which his secretaries transposed into perfect French. Back

Chapter 13

1. Napoleon could not tolerate any man with black blood in his veins. General Dumas (father of the author of The Three Musketeers) was the son of a French marquis and a San Domingo Negress. In spite of a distinguished military career Napoleon relieved him of his command for no other reason than his mulatto appearance. Back

2. “The original manuscript in the Paris archives bears many corrections in Napoleon’s own handwriting showing the careful attention he paid to the undertaking.”—Henry Adams, Historical Essays. Back

Chapter 14

1. One of the most picturesque figures in Haitian history. Born in slavery on a British island, he became in turn stable boy, waiter, billiard-marker, sergeant of militia, general, and finally emperor of the colony. Back

Chapter 19

1. Toussaint was frequently referred to as “first of the blacks,” and several writers have stated that one reason why Napoleon was so bitter toward Toussaint was that he addressed a letter to Bonaparte headed “To the First of the Whites from the First of the Blacks.” The only thing wrong with this story is that it isn’t true. Back

Epilogue

1. Pauline’s brother, the eighteen-year-old Jerome, hurriedly departed for the United States, where he settled in Baltimore long enough to marry an American. It is to this circumstance that our present-day Society columns are indebted for the frequent inclusion of the name Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte. Back

More Reading about Haiti

How a French Bank Captured Haiti at https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/20/world/french-banks-haiti-cic.html