The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance

by Harriet Martineau

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

  THE HERALD ABROAD.

  Madame Oge's news was too true. Monsieur Pascal had held many ananxious conversation with L'Ouverture on the subject, before Afra showedhim her little friend's letter. In a short time an additional factbecame known--that Bonaparte had re-established the slave-trade. Hisenmity to the race of blacks was now open and declared.

  The first intimation which the colony at large had of what had happened,was through the altered demeanour of their chief. From the first brightday of the prolific, gorgeous summer, to that in which the season mergedin a fierce autumnal storm, L'Ouverture had been seen to be not lesscalm and quiet than usual, but depressed and sad. Some ascribed hisgloom to the transaction at Cap, and the misery it must needs haveintroduced into his home. Others, who saw how much the colony hadgained in confidence, and Toussaint's government in strength by thatact, looked for a different cause. Some reminded each other that, whileno man was more energetic in the hour of proof than their chief, hisspirits were wont to droop when others were elated. It seemed as ifsome boding ghost whispered evil to him most peremptorily when theharvests were ripest before his eyes, when the laugh and the song wereloudest in his ear, and when no one dreamed that the bright days of thecolony would ever more be overclouded.

  It was even so. When Toussaint saw that his race was in peace, itfilled him with grief that this peace was not likely to last. When hesaw what the true African soul was, when cleansed from blood and anger,and permitted to grow in freedom and in harmony, it was torture to know(as he did too well) that new injuries were preparing for it--that itwas certain to be again steeped in passion and slaughter, and all thatwas savage in it excited afresh. This, even more than the death ofMoyse, cast gloom round his soul, during the last of the series ofbright and prosperous summers that were to pass under his eye. Whenautumn came, it might have made him wonder, if he had had leisure toconsider himself, to find how his spirits rose, and his heart grewlight, exactly when dismay and dread began to overcloud every face abouthim, but when he saw that suspense and struggle were coming to an end.He perceived perplexity in the countenance of his friend Pascal, even inthe presence of his bride. He met sorrow in the mild eyes of Henri; heheard that exultation in the voice of Jacques which always struck likediscord upon his ear. He observed that in the bearing of MadameDessalines which carried back his memory ten years into her pasthistory. He saw Aimee tremble at the approach of any one who mightbring news from France; and he heard Margot weeping at her prayers, asshe implored of Heaven the safe return of her sons. Yet all this causedto his sympathising heart scarcely a pang; so clear was his path now, sodistinct was the issue to which his duty, and the fate of his race wasbrought.

  "Here it ends then," said he, one day at the council-table, rising asbespoke. "Here ends all possibility of compromise. For the blacks, itis slavery or self-defence. It is so, Monsieur Pascal."

  "It is. The terms of the new peace are proclaimed."

  "And the fact substantiated that Bonaparte has declared that he will dowhat he pleases with Saint Domingo."

  "Such were certainly his words."

  "Who is surprised?" inquired Dessalines. "I forewarned you of this,long ago: and I said, at the same time, that, if we waited foraggression, we might find it too late for defence."

  "Not a word of fear, Jacques. Our victory is as sure as the justice ofHeaven."

  "Perhaps so; but it would have been easier if you had not been trainingyour people, all these years, to love and cherish those whom they arenow going to resist."

  "I see and admit our difficulty, Jacques. But if I had governed as youwould have had me, we should have been in a worse. I should then havebeen the chief of a race of savages, instead of soldiers and citizens.If we had been extirpating the whites all this time, we should now havebeen destroying each other, instead of preparing to go forth to arighteous war."

  "True. Most true," declared Henri. "We may suffer for a time, andfight with the more difficulty, from our habits of observance towardsthose whom we must now oppose; but God will not allow the spirit offorgiveness and love to be finally a snare."

  "Never," said Toussaint. "He has appointed fierce passions for a yoke,and mild affections for freedom. Though Bonaparte betrays andoppresses, the Gospel stands.--It is now time for proclaiming the warthroughout the colony."

  "I will prepare the proclamation this night," said Monsieur Pascal.

  "If you will, my friend," said Toussaint. "But I intend to be my ownproclamation. To-morrow morning I set forth for Saint Domingo, to visitmy brother in his city. I shall examine every fort, and call togetherthe militia, as I go. The trip would be more effective if I could havemy council about me."

  "I will go with you," said Henri.

  "And I," exclaimed Jacques.

  "And I?" said Raymond, inquiringly.

  "No, Raymond; stay at Port-au-Prince, to report my proceedings to thelegislature. And you, Monsieur Pascal, remain here to receive thedespatches which may arrive from France. My brethren-in-arms of thecouncil will be with me. When we have satisfied ourselves, we will letyou know whether or not those who would have loved and served France forever as a guardian angel, can cast her off when she becomes an incubus."

  It was a time of high excitement--that in which L'Ouverture, attended byfour of his generals, and a train of inferior officers, traversed theisland, to communicate or confirm the intelligence that an expeditionwas believed to be setting sail from France, for the purpose of wrestingfrom the blacks the freedom which was theirs by the law of the land.Toussaint found, not only that all hearts were ready for the assertionof freedom, but that all eyes were so fixed upon him, all ears so opento his lightest word, that there was every probability of his purposesbeing fully understood and completely executed. At a word from him, theinhabitants of Cap Francais and Port-au-Prince began to remove theirproperty into the fastnesses of the interior, and to prepare to burnthose towns at the moment of the French attempting to land. It wasuseless to think of preventing a landing, so exposed was the greaterpart of the coast. The more rational hope was so to distress the foe onshore as to make them glad to go on board their ships again. Equallysatisfactory was the disposition of the interior. The municipal bodiesthroughout the colony, previously brought under one system, now acted inconcert. Their means of communication had been improved, so that eachsettlement was no longer like an encampment in the wilderness: on thecontrary, every order given by L'Ouverture seemed to have been echoed bythe mountain-tops around, so promptly was it transmitted, and socontinually did he find his commands anticipated. As he went, his fourgenerals parted off, to examine the forts on either hand, and to inspectand animate the militia. Everywhere the same story was told, andeverywhere was it received with the same eagerness and docility. "TheFrench are coming to make slaves of us again; but there shall never morebe a slave in Saint Domingo. They are coming; but they are ourcountrymen till they have struck the first blow. We will demand of theman account of our brethren in Cayenne, in Guadaloupe, and in Martinique.We will ask of them concerning our brethren on the coasts of Africa.If, in return, they throw us chains and the whip, we shall know how toanswer. But not a blow must be struck till they have shown whether theyare brethren or foes. Our dark skin is no disgrace; but the first dropof a brother's blood dyes us all in infamy. Let the infamy be theirswho assault us. At this moment our first duty is to our white brethrenof this island; in this time of our high excitement, they are full ofgrief; they are guiltless of this attack upon our liberty; they are aswilling as we to live and die under the rule of L'Ouverture: and underthe special protection of L'Ouverture, they shall, if they please, liveand die. Beware of imputing to them the sins of their colour; protectthem from your hearts--defend them with your lives. In the hour ofdanger, as you invoke the blessing of Heaven, save first the Creolewhites, and next your wives and your children."

  Such were the exhortations spoken everywhere by Christophe, La Plume,and Clervea
ux. It could not be expected of Dessalines that he shoulddeliver the last clauses with perfect fidelity. The solemnity of thehour had, however its tranquillising effect, even upon his rulingpassion. Even his heart, which usually turned to stone at the sight ofa white, was moved by the visible distress of the proprietors of thatrace, who were, with scarcely an exception, in despair. In private,they execrated the spirit and conduct of their former neighbours, now inParis, whose representations were the chief cause of the expedition nowprojected. Instead of remaining or returning, to ascertain the realstate of things in Saint Domingo--instead of respecting the interestsand wishes of those who were entirely satisfied under the government ofL'Ouverture, they had prejudiced the mind of the First Consul, andinduced him to bring back the ruin and woe which had passed away. Theladies wept and trembled within their houses; their fathers, husbands,and brothers flocked to every point where L'Ouverture halted, to assurehim of their good-will to his government, and to remind him of thedifficulty and danger of the position in which they were placed. Theselast carried some comfort home with them. All who had seen Toussaint'sface had met there the gaze of a brother. If there were two or threewho went with doubtful minds, prepared to exult at the depression of theblacks, but thinking it well to bespeak protection, in case of thestruggle ending the wrong way--if there was a sprinkling of such amongthe throng of whites who joined the cavalcade from the cross-roads, theyshrunk away abashed before the open countenance of the Deliverer, andstole homewards to wait the guidance of events.

  If it had not been that the city of Saint Domingo was at the end of thismarch, Toussaint would have traversed the colony with a higher spiritand a lighter heart than during any of his serener days of power; butthe city of his brother's government was before him, and, at its gate,Paul, whom he had not met since the death of Moyse. He had not beenforgetful of his sorrowing brother; he had immediately sent to himFather Laxabon--the best consoler, as the last confidant of thedeparted. Letter upon letter had Toussaint sent--deed upon deed ofkindness had he attempted towards his brother; but still Father Laxabonhad written, "Come not yet;" "He must have time;" "Give him time ifthere is to be peace between you." Now it had become necessary thatthey should meet; and far readier was Toussaint to encounter the armiesof France than the countenance of his brother. For ever, in the midstof the excitements of the journey, he found himself asking in his ownmind where and how Paul would meet him; and whether he had cut off fromhimself his brother, as well as his brother's son.

  Meantime, the party rode proudly on, through the interior of the island,signs of welcome spreading around them at every step. From thegrass-farms, in the wide savannahs, the herdsmen hastened, with promisesto drive their flocks up into the mornes, where no enemy shouldpenetrate while a man remained to guard the passes. At each salute fromthe forts that rose at intervals along the way, the wild cattle rushedtowards the steeps; while the parties of hunters turned back from theirsports, to offer themselves as scouts and messengers on behalf of thecolony. From some glade of the woods appeared the monk, charged withthe blessing of his convent; or the grazier, with a string of horses--his gift, for the service of the army. Around the crosses which, halfconcealed by the long grass of the plains, yet served to mark the road,were gathered groups of women, bearing bags of money, or ornaments ofgold and silver, which they would have thrust upon him, to whom theydeclared that they owed their all; while every settlement displayed itscompany of armed men, standing in military order, and rending the airwith shouts, on the approach of their chief. La Plume and Clerveaux, towhom such demonstrations were less familiar than to the other generals,no longer doubted that all would be well. They pronounced that thecolony already showed itself invincible. Toussaint thought that hemight have been of the same opinion, if the expected foe had been anyother than French. The event must show whether the pains he had takento unite his race with their fellow-citizens as brethren would nowweaken or strengthen his cause--whether it would enhance or mitigate thebitterness of the impending quarrel.

  On the morning of the last day of their survey of the interior, theparty emerged from the shade of the woods, and, crossing the grassylevels of the Llanos, reached the ferry by which the Ozama was to becrossed near its mouth. On the opposite bank were horsemen, who, onobserving the party approaching the ferry, put spurs to their horses,and galloped southwards, in the direction of the city. They need not sohave hastened; for the Deliverer was stopped at every fishing hamlet--almost at every hut along the shores of the bay, to receive the loyalhomage of the inhabitants--Spanish as well as French. In the midst ofthese greetings the eye and the soul of the chief were absent--lookingto what lay before him. There, at some distance, springing from thelevel of the plain, rose the cathedral of Saint Domingo, and other loftybuildings, whose outline was distinctly marked against the glitteringsea which spread immediately behind. An ungovernable impatience seizedhim at length, and he broke away, bursting through the throngs upon theroad, and resolving not to stop till he should have seen his fate, as abrother, in his brother's eyes.

  A procession of priests was issuing from the city gates as heapproached. They were robed, and they bore the Host under a canopy. Atthe first sound of their chant, the generals and their suite threwthemselves from their horses, and prostrated themselves upon the grass.On rising, they perceived that the whole city had come out to meet them."The whole city," Toussaint heard his companions say: and his heartthrobbed when he strained his sight to see if the Governor of the citywas the only one left at home. The procession of priests had nowturned, and was preceding him--slowly--so slowly, that he would fainhave dispensed with the solemnity. The people crowded round his horseand impeded his way. He strove to be present to the occasion; but allwas like a troubled dream--the chanting, the acclamation, the bursts ofmilitary music from a distance--all that at other times had fired hissoul was now disturbance and perplexity. A few faithless persons in thecrowd, on the watch for information with which they might make interestwith the French on their arrival, noted the wandering of the eye and theknitting of the brow, and drew thence a portent of the fall of theDeliverer.

  At length the gate was reached; and there, in the shadow of the portal,surrounded by his attendants, stood Paul. On the arrival of his brotherat the threshold, he took from an officer the velvet cushion on whichthe keys of the city were deposited, and advancing to the stirrup of theCommander-in-chief, offered them, according to custom. For an instant,Toussaint gazed on the aged, worn, melancholy countenance beside him,and then stooped from his horse, to fling his arms round the neck of hisbrother, breathing into his ear, "If _you_ are in your duty at such atime as this, who else dare fail me? I thank God! I thank God! Wecannot fail."

  Paul withdrew himself, without speaking. His action was sullen. He ledthe way, however, towards the Governor's house, evidently expecting tobe followed. Not another word passed between them on the way. Throughone wide street after another L'Ouverture was led; and from thebalconies of whole ranges of fine houses, from the roof of many achurch, and the porch of many a convent, was he hailed, before he couldcatch another glimpse of the countenance of the brother who precededhim. At the gate of the Governor's house there was a pause; and way wasmade for the chief to pass in first. He did so; and the next momentturned round in the vestibule, to speak to Paul; but Paul haddisappeared. Glancing round, Toussaint saw Father Laxabon awaiting himat the foot of the staircase. Each advanced to the other.

  "Father, he is wretched," whispered Toussaint. "Bring me to him."

  "Follow me," said the priest; and, instead of mounting the marblestaircase, L'Ouverture and the father were seen to enter a passage, intowhich every one else was forbidden to follow. Father Laxabon tappedsoftly at a door, and was desired to enter. He opened it, and closed itbehind Toussaint, keeping watch outside, that the brothers might not bedisturbed.

  Paul started to his feet from the conch on which he had thrown himself.He stood waiting. Now was the decisive moment; and Toussaint
knew itwas. Yet he stood speechless.

  "I left my son in your charge," said Paul, at length.

  "You did: and I--"

  "And you murdered him."

  "No, Paul! I executed justice upon him. Hear me, brother, once forall. I am heart-broken for you as a brother: but as a magistrate, Iwill admit no censure. As his father in your stead, I was, as the eventhas proved, too ambitious for him: but, as a ruler, I did but my duty."

  "Yes! You have been ambitious! You have chosen your duty!"

  "My ambition was for him, Paul. As for my duty--remember that I havetoo a child whom, by that act, I doomed to worse than death."

  "You see what liberty has brought to us. Look at the family ofOuverture--consider what has befallen since your struggle for libertybegan; and then, perhaps, you will give over struggling. Welcome theFrench--go back to Breda--send me home to my hut on the shore, that Imay die in such peace as is left to a childless man. Why do you notanswer me, Toussaint? Why will you not give us a last chance of peace?I must obey you at the city gate; but I will importune you here. Whywill you not do as I say?"

  "Because I know that some--and the Ouvertures among them--were not bornto live at ease--to pass their days in peace. I feel that some--and theOuvertures among them--are born to suffer--to struggle and to die fortheir race. If you would know why, ask their Creator. I myself wouldfain know why. Meantime, the will of God is so clear, that I havedevoted, not myself only, but my children. My sons, you know--"

  "And not your children only, but your brother and his child."

  "No. Moyse cast himself away. And, as for you, your hut still stands,as you say. Go to it, if you will; or make friends with the French, ifyou desire to be a slave again. You have suffered too much by me for meto ask you ever to serve me more. I shall never desire you to dedicateyourself anew to pain, in this crisis. Go and seek for ease. I shallincessantly pray that you may find it."

  "I shall not seek what is not to be found, Toussaint. I have neverdared wretchedness as you have: but since I am and must be wretched, Iwill be an Ouverture. Your eye and your voice make me an Ouvertureagain, even yet. Give me your commands."

  "Read this proclamation, with the eye of an Ouverture. Well! Do youlike it? How do you understand it?"

  "You declare your allegiance to France, declaring, at the same time, itslimits, and appealing to your soldiers, in the event of aggression. Itis plain from this that you mean to defend yourself, and anticipatewar."

  "It is well. That is what I intend to convey. You will publish thisproclamation, in your city and district, under the date of this 18th ofDecember, 1801. You will then concert with General Clerveaux themeasures for the defence of this city, and report your decisions to me,on my return from Cap Samana. Shall it be so, brother?"

  "Be it so."

  "And we are friends?"

  "We are fellow-citizens--we are Ouvertures--and therefore faithful. Ishall not betray you."

  "That is all I can ask, I know. We are old men, Paul. Fidelity for awhile! Beyond the grave, perhaps more."

  "You are going already?"

  "To Cap Samana; and alone. Farewell!"