The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance

by Harriet Martineau

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  MANY GUESTS.

  For some weeks after the appearance of the fleet upon the coast, nothingtook place which could be called war. Toussaint was resolved not to bethe aggressor. Prepared at all points, he waited till those whom hestill regarded as his fellow-citizens should strike the first blow. Hewas the more willing to leave an opening for peace till the last, thathe heard that ladies were on board--ladies from the court of France,come to enjoy the delights of this tropical paradise. The sister ofBonaparte, Madame Leclerc, the wife of the commander of the expedition,was there. It seemed scarcely conceivable that she and her train ofladies could have come with any expectation of witnessing such a warfareas, ten years before, had shown how much more savage than the beasts ofthe forest men may be. It was as little conceivable that they couldexpect the negroes to enter into slavery again at a word, after havingenjoyed freedom, and held rule for ten years. There must still be hopeof peace; and Toussaint spared no effort to preserve it, till thestrangers should declare their intentions by some unequivocal act.

  For this object, L'Ouverture appeared gifted with ubiquity. No flyingArab was ever in so many places so nearly at once. Pongaudin, likeevery other estate which was in friendly hands, was a sort of camp.Here the Commander-in-chief and his officers had their head-quarters;and here he was to be found, at intervals of a few hours. During thoseintervals, he was inspecting the fortifications of Saint Marc, one ofthe strongest places of the island, and under the charge of Dessalines;or he was overlooking the bight of Leogane, from behind Port-au-Prince;or he was visiting L'Etoile, made a strong post, and held by CharlesBellair and his wife (for Deesha would not leave her husband);--or hewas riding through the mornes to the north, re-animating, with the sightof his beloved countenance, the companies there held in reserve. He wason the heights of the Gros Morne, an admiring spectator, on occasion ofthat act of Christophe which was the real cause of the delay andindecision of Leclerc and his troops.

  The main body of the French army was preparing to land, immediately onits arrival at Cap Francais, when Christophe sent his friend and brotherofficer, Sangos, on board the fleet, to acquaint Leclerc with theabsence of the Commander-in-chief of the colony, without whosepermission the landing of troops could not be allowed. If a landing byforce were attempted, the city would immediately be fired, and theinhabitants withdrawn. General Leclerc could not believe this to bemore than an empty threat; but thought it as well to avoid risk, bylanding in the night at points where he was not looked for.Accordingly, he sent some of his force on shore at Fort Dauphin, to theeast; while he himself, with a body of troops, set foot on the fatalcoast which he was never to leave, at Le Limbe, on the western side ofthe ridge which commanded the town, hoping to drop into the militaryquarter from the heights, before he was looked for. From these heights,however, he beheld the town one mass of fire. Christophe had withdrawnthe inhabitants, including two thousand whites, who were to be held ashostages in the interior; and so orderly and well-planned had been hisproceedings, that not the slightest personal injury was sustained by anyindividual. Of this conflagration, Toussaint had been a witness fromthe heights of Gros Morne. The horror which it occasioned was for thestrangers alone. All the movable property of the citizens was safe inthe interior: and they were all safe in person. The dismay was for theFrench, when they found only a burning soil, tumbling roofs, andtottering walls, where they had expected repose and feasting after theennui of a voyage across the Atlantic. For the court ladies, thereexisted at present only the alternative of remaining on board the ships,of which they were heartily weary, and establishing themselves on thebarren island of Tortuga, the home of the buccaneers of former days.They shortly after took possession of Tortuga, which they found to be atropical region indeed, but no paradise. It was not the best season forturtle; and there was no other of the luxuries whose savour had reachedthe nostrils of the court of France.

  Among the two thousand whites removed from Cap were, of course, theladies of the convent. They were safely established under shelter ofthe fortifications of Saint Marc, with all their little comforts aboutthem, and their mocking-bird as tuneful as when hanging in its ownorange-tree. Euphrosyne was not with them--nor yet with her guardian.Monsieur Critois had enough to do to protect himself and his lady; andhe earnestly desired his ward to be thankful that she had friends amongthe ruling powers. Euphrosyne needed no commands on this head. Shejoined Madame Pascal, and was now with her and the secretary in thehalf-camp, half-household of Pongaudin.

  Besides the family and establishment of the Commander-in-chief, as manyof the white gentry of Cap were accommodated as the country palace ofPongaudin would contain. It seemed doubtful how long they would have tofind amusement for themselves there; for the invaders seemed to havefallen asleep. A month had passed since the burning of Cap, and notanother step had been taken. Expectation had begun to be weary. Thefeverish watching for news had begun to relax; the ladies no longershuddered at the bare idea of walking in the shrubberies; and some ofthe younger damsels had begun to heed warnings from L'Ouverture himselfnot to go out of bounds--by no means to pass the line of sentinels inany direction. Instead of everything French being spoken of with afaltering voice, any one was now welcome who might be able to tell, evenat second or third hand, that Madame Leclerc had been seen, and what shewore, and how she looked, and what she had said, either about the colonyor anything else. The officers, both civil and military, foundthemselves able to devote their powers of entertainment more and move tothe ladies; and the liability to be called off in the midst of the gameof chess, the poem, the song, or the dance, seemed only to make theirattentions more precious, because more precarious, than those of theguests who knew themselves to be hostages, and who had abundance of timefor gallantry, if only they had had spirits and inclination. Most ofthe party certainly found the present position of affairs very dull.The exceptions were few. They were poor Genifrede, whose mind waswholly in the past, and before whose eyes the present went forward as adim dream; her mother and sister, whose faculties were continually onthe stretch to keep up, under such circumstances, the hospitalities forwhich they were pledged to so large a household; the secretary and hisbride, who were engrossed at once with the crisis in public affairs andin their own; and Euphrosyne, who could find nothing dull after theconvent, and who unconsciously wished that, if this were invasion andwar, they might last a good while yet.

  One evening, the 8th of February, was somewhat remarkable forL'Ouverture being not only at home, but at leisure. He was playingbilliards with his officers and guests. It followed of course thatGeneral Vincent was also present. It followed of course; for whether itwas that Toussaint felt the peculiar interest in him which report madeobservers look for towards an intended son-in-law, or whether the chiefdistrusted him on account of his fondness for Paris and the FirstConsul, Vincent was for ever kept under the eye, and by the side of hisGeneral. Aimee was wont to sigh when she heard her father's horseordered; for she know that Vincent was going too; and she now rejoicedto see her father at the billiard-table; for it told her that Vincentwas her own for the evening.

  Vincent was not slow in putting in his claim. At the first moment, whenthey were unobserved, he drew her to the window, where the eveningbreeze blew in, fragrant and cool; then into the piazza; then across thelawn; then down to the gate which opened upon the beach. He would havegone further; but there Aimee stopped, reminding him of the generalorder against breaking bounds.

  "That is all very well for the whites; and for us, when the whites havetheir eyes upon us," said Vincent. "But we are not prisoners; and thereis not a prisoner abroad to-night. Come--only as far as the mangroves!We shall not be missed: and if we should be, we can be within the gatein two minutes."

  "I dare not," said Aimee, with a longing look, however, at the pearlysands, and the creaming waves that now overspread them, now lapsed inthe gleam of the moon. The dark shadow of the mangroves lay but alittle way on. It wa
s true that two minutes would reach them; but shestill said, "I dare not."

  "Who is there?" cried the sentinel, in his march past the gate.

  "No strangers, Claude. Any news on your watch?"

  "None, Mademoiselle."

  "All quiet over towards Saint Marc?" inquired Vincent.

  "All quiet there, General; and everywhere else when the last reportscame round, ten minutes ago."

  "Very well: pass on, good Claude. Come, come!" he said to Aimee; "whoknows when we may have a moonlight hour again!"

  He would not bide another refusal, but, by gentle violence, drew her outupon the beach, telling the sentinel, as they passed between him and thewater, that if they were inquired for, he might call: they should bewithin hearing. Claude touched his cap, showed his white teeth in abroad smile, and did not object.

  Once among the mangroves, Aimee could not repent. Their archedbranches, descending into the water, trembled with every wave thatgushed in among them, and stirred the mild air. The moonlight quiveredon their dark green leaves, and on the transparent pool which lay amongtheir roots.

  "Now, would you not have been sorry if I had not made you come?" saidVincent.

  "If we could only stay--stay here for ever!" she exclaimed, leaning backagainst the bush under which they sat. "Here, amidst the whispering ofthe winds and the dash of the waters, you would listen no more for theroll of the drum, or the booming of cannon at Saint Marc. I am weary ofour life at Pongaudin."

  "Weary of rumour of wars, before we have the wars themselves, love."

  "We can never hear anything of my brothers while we are on these termswith France. Day after day comes on--day after day, and we have totoil, and plan, and be anxious; and our guests grow tired, and nothingis done; and we know that we can hear nothing of what we most want tolearn. I am certain that my mother spends her nights in tears for herboys; and nothing is so likely to rouse poor Genifrede as the prospectof their coming back to us."

  "And you yourself, Aimee, cannot be happy without Isaac."

  "I never tried," said she. "I have daily felt his loss, because Iwished never to cease to feel it."

  "He is happier than you, dearest Aimee."

  "Do not tell me that men feel such separations less than women; for Iknow it well already. I can never have been so necessary to him as heis to me; I know that well."

  "Say `was,' my Aimee. The time comes when sisters find their brothersless necessary to them than they have been."

  "Such a time has never come to me, and I believe it never will. No onecan ever be to me what Isaac has been."

  "`Has been;'--true. But see how times have changed! Isaac has left offwriting to you so frequently as he did--"

  "No, no. He never did write frequently; it was never his habit to writeas I wrote to him."

  "Well, well. Whatever expectation may lie at the bottom of this littleheart, whatever secret remonstrance for his silence, whateverdissatisfaction with his apologies, whatever mortification that suchapologies were necessary--"

  "How dare you--What right have you to pry into my heart?" exclaimedAimee, withdrawing herself from her companion's side.

  "The right of love," he replied, following till both were seated on thevery verge of the water. "Can you suppose that I do not see yourdisappointment when L'Ouverture opens his dispatches, and there is notone of that particular size and fold which makes your countenance changewhen you see it? Can you suppose that I do not mark your happiness, forhours and days, after one of those closely-written sheets has come?--happiness which makes me feel of no account to you--happiness whichmakes me jealous of my very brother--for my brother he is, as he isyours."

  "It should not do that," replied Aimee, as she sat looking into thewater. "You should not be _angry_ at my being happy. If you havelearned so much of my thoughts--"

  "Say on! Oh, say on!"

  "There is no need," said she, "if you can read the soul without speech,as you seem to profess."

  "I read no thoughts but yours; and none of yours that relate to myself.I see at a glance every stir of your love to all besides. If you carefor me, I need to hear it from yourself."

  "If this quarrel comes to bloodshed, what will become of my brothers?If you love me, tell me that."

  "Still these brothers!" cried Vincent, impatiently.

  "And who should be inquired of concerning them, if not you? You tookthem to France; you left them there--"

  "I was sent here by Bonaparte--put on the deputation by his expresscommand. If not, I should not now have been here--I should haveremembered you only as a child, and--"

  "But Placide and Isaac! Suppose Leclerc and Rochambeau both killed--suppose Madame Leclerc entering once more into her brother's presence, amourning widow--what would Bonaparte do with Placide and Isaac? I amsure you have no comfort to give me, or you would not so evade what Iask."

  "I declare, I protest you are mistaken. Bonaparte is everything that isnoble, and gracious, and gentle."

  "You are sure of that?"

  "Nay, why not? Have I not always said so? and you have delighted tohear me say so."

  "I should delight to believe it now. I will believe it; but yet, if hewere really noble, how should this quarrel have arisen? For, if everman was noble, and gracious, and gentle, my father is. If two such mencome to open defiance, whose is the crime, and wherein does it lie?"

  "If the world fall to pieces, Aimee, there can be no doubt ofBonaparte's greatness. What majesty he carries with him, through allhis conquests! How whole nations quail under his magnificentproclamations!"

  "Are they really fine? I have seen but few; and they--"

  "Are they not all grand? That proclamation in Egypt, for instance, inwhich he said he was the Man of Fate who had been foretold in the Koran,and that all resistance was impious and vain! If it had not happenedfour years before Bonaparte went to Egypt, I should have thought yourfather--"

  "I was just thinking of that. But there is a great difference. It wasnot my father, but Laveaux, who said that the black chief, predicted byRaynal, had appeared. And it was originally said, not as a divineprophecy, but because, in the natural course of things, the redeemer ofan oppressed race must arise. Besides, my father says nothing but whathe believes; and I suppose Bonaparte did not believe what he wassaying."

  "Do you think not? For my part, I believe his very words--that tooppose him is impious and vain."

  "Heaven pity us, if that be true! Was it not in that proclamation thatBonaparte said that men must account to him for their secret thoughts,as nothing was concealed from him?"

  "Yes; just as L'Ouverture told the mulattoes in the church at Cap that,from the other side of the island, his eye would be upon them, and hisarm stretched out, to restrain or punish. He almost reached Bonaparte'sstrain there."

  "I like my father's words the best, because all understood and believedwhat he said. Bonaparte may claim to read secret thoughts; but beforemy father, men have no secret thoughts--they love him so that theirminds stand open."

  "Then those Italian proclamations, and letters to the Directory," saidVincent; "how they grew grander, as city after city, and state afterstate, fell before him! When he summoned Pavia to open her gates tohim, after her insurrection, how imperious he was! If he had found thata drop of French blood had been shed, he declared not a stone of thecity should have remained; but a column should arise in its place,bearing the inscription, `Here once stood Pavia!' There spoke the manwho held the ages in his hand, ready to roll them over the civilisedworld--to crumble cities, and overthrow nations, in case of resistanceto his will! How Paris rang with acclamations when these words passedfrom mouth to mouth! He was worshipped as a god."

  "It is said," sighed Aimee, "that Leclerc has proclamations from him forour people. I wonder what they are, and how they will be received."

  "With enthusiasm, no doubt. When and where has it been otherwise? Youshudder, my Aimee; but, trust me, there is inconceivable folly in theidea of o
pposing Bonaparte. As he said in Egypt, it is impious andvain. Trust me, love, and decide accordingly."

  "Desert my father and my family in their hour of peril! I will not dothat."

  "There is no peril in the case, love; it is glory and happiness to liveunder Bonaparte. My life upon it, he will do your father no injury, butcontinue him in his command, under certain arrangements; and, as for theblacks, they and the whites will join in one common enthusiasm for theconqueror of Europe. Let us be among the first, my Aimee! Be mine; andwe will go to the French forces--among my friends there. It is as if wewere called to be mediators; it is as if the welfare of your family andthe colony were, in a measure, consigned to our hands. Once married,and with Leclerc, how easily may we explain away causes of quarrel! Howcompletely shall we make him understand L'Ouverture! And how, throughus, Leclerc can put your father in possession of the views of Bonaparte:Oh, Aimee, be mine, and let us go!"

  "And if it were otherwise--if it came to bloodshed--to deadly warfare?"

  "Then, love, you would least of all repent. Alone and desolate--partedfrom your brothers--parted from me."

  "From you, Vincent?"

  "Assuredly. I can never unsheath my sword against those to whom myattachment is strong. I can never fight against an army from Paris--troops that have been led by Bonaparte."

  "Does my father know that?"

  "He cannot know me if he anticipates anything else. I execute hisorders at present, because I admire his system of government, and amanxious that it should appear to the best advantage to thebrother-in-law of the First Consul. Thus, I am confident that therewill be no war. But, love, if there should be, you will be parted forever from your brothers and from me, by remaining here--you will neveragain see Isaac. Nay, nay! No tears! no terrors, my Aimee! By beingmine, and going with me to that place where all are happy--to Paris--youwill, through my interest, best aid your father; and Isaac and I willwatch over you for ever."

  "Not a word more, Vincent! You make me wretched. Not a word more, tillI have spoken to my father. He must, he will tell me what he thinks,what he expects--whether he fears. Hark! There are horsemen!"

  "Can it be? Horsemen approaching on this side? I will look out."

  "No, no! Vincent, you shall not go--"

  Her terror was so great that Vincent could not indeed leave her. As thetramp of a company of horsemen became almost lost on quitting the hardroad for the deep sand, he dropped his voice, whispering in her ear thatshe was quite safe, completely hidden under the mangroves, and that hewould not leave her. She clasped his hand with both hers, to compel himto keep his word, and implored him not to speak--not to shake a leaf oftheir covert.

  The company passed very near; so near as that the sand thrown up by thehorses' feet pattered among the foliage of the mangroves. No one of thestrangers was then speaking; but in another moment the sentry challengedthem. They laughed, and were certainly stopping at the little gate.

  "We know your master, fellow," said one. "We have had more talk withhim in one day than you in all your service."

  "I am sure I ought to know that voice," whispered Aimee, drawing a longbreath.

  The strangers were certainly intending to pass through the gate into thegrounds; and the sentry was remonstrating. In another moment he fired,as a signal. There was some clamour and laughter, and Aimee started, asat a voice from the grave.

  "That is Isaac's voice!" she exclaimed, springing from her seat. It wasnow Vincent's turn to hold her hands, or she would have been out in thebroad moonlight in an instant.

  "Stay, love! Stay one moment," he entreated. "I believe you are right;but let me look out."

  She sank down on the sand, while he reconnoitred. At the moment of hislooking forth, a young man who, he was certain, was Placide, wasgood-humouredly taking the sentry by the shoulders, and pushing him fromhis place, while saying something in his ear, which made the poorsoldier toss his hat in the air, and run forward to meet his comrades,whom the sound of his gun was bringing from every direction, over thesands.

  "It is they, indeed," said Vincent. "Your brothers are both there."

  While he was speaking, Aimee burst from the covert, made her waymiraculously through the gathering horses and men, pushed through thegate, leaving her lover some way behind, flew like a lapwing through theshrubbery, and across the lawn, was hanging on her brother's neck beforethe news of the arrival was understood within the house.

  There was no waiting till father and mother could choose where to meettheir children. The lads followed the messenger into the salon, crowdedas it was with strangers. L'Ouverture's voice was the first heard,after the sudden hush.

  "Now, Heaven bless Bonaparte for this!" he cried, "and make him a happyfather!"

  "Hear him, O God! and bless Bonaparte!" sobbed Margot.

  A check was given to their words and their emotions, by seeing by whomthe young men were accompanied. Therese was leading forward Genifrede,when she stopped short, with a sort of groan, and returned to her seat,forgetful at the moment even of Genifrede; for Monsieur Papalier wasthere. Other gentlemen were of the company. The one whom the young menmost punctiliously introduced to their father was Monsieur Coasson, thetutor, guardian, or envoy, under whose charge General Leclerc had sentthem home.

  Toussaint offered him a warm welcome, as the guardian of his sons; butMonsieur Coasson himself seemed most impressed with his office of envoy:as did the gentlemen who accompanied him. Assuming the air of anambassador, and looking round him, as if to require the attention of allpresent, Monsieur Coasson discharged himself of his commission, asfollows:--

  "General Toussaint--"

  "They will not acknowledge him as L'Ouverture," observed Therese toMadame Pascal and Genifrede. Afra's eyes filled with tears. Genifredewas absorbed in contemplating her brothers--both grown manly, and theone looking the soldier, the other the student.

  "General Toussaint," said Coasson, "I come, the bearer of a letter toyou from the First Consul."

  In his hand was now seen a gold box, which he did not, however, deliverat the moment.

  "With it, I am commissioned to offer the greetings of General Leclerc,who awaits with anxiety your arrival at his quarters as hisLieutenant-General."

  "Upon what does General Leclerc ground his expectation of seeing _me_there?"

  "Upon the ground of the commands of the First Consul, declared in hisproclamation to the inhabitants of Saint Domingo, and, no doubt, morefully in this letter to yourself."

  Here he delivered the box, desiring that the presence of himself and hiscompanions might be no impediment to General Toussaint's reading hisdispatches.

  Toussaint had no intention that they should be any hindrance. He readand re-read the letter, while all eyes but those of Aimee were fixedupon his countenance. With an expression of the quietest satisfaction,she was gazing upon her brothers, unvexed by the presence of numbers,and the transaction of state business. They were there, and she washappy.

  Those many eyes failed to discover anything from the countenance ofToussaint. It was immovable; and Monsieur Coasson was so fardisappointed. It had been his object to prevent the dispatches which hebrought from being road in private, that he might be enabled to reporthow they were received. He had still another resource. He announcedthat he had brought with him the proclamation of the First Consul to theinhabitants at large of Saint Domingo. As it was a public document, hewould, with permission, read it aloud. Toussaint now looked round, tocommand attention to the words of the ruler of France. Vincent soughtto exchange glances with Aimee; but Aimee had none to spare. MonsieurPapalier had unceremoniously entered into conversation with some of theguests of his own complexion, and did not cease upon any hint, declaringto those about him, that none of this was new to him, as he was in thecounsels of Bonaparte in all Saint Domingo affairs. The tone of theirconversation was, however, reduced to a low murmur, while MonsieurCoasson read aloud the following proclamation:--

  "_Paris,
November_ 8, 1801.

  "Inhabitants of Saint Domingo,

  "Whatever your origin or your colour, you are all French: you are allequal, and all free, before God, and before the Republic.

  "France, like Saint Domingo, has been a prey to factions, torn byintestine commotions and foreign wars. But all has changed: all nationshave embraced the French, and have sworn to them peace and amity: theFrench people have embraced each other, and have sworn to be all friendsand brothers. Come also, embrace the French, and rejoice to see againyour European friends and brothers!

  "The government sends you the Captain-General Leclerc. He hasbrought--"

  Here Monsieur Coasson's voice and manner became extremely emphatic.

  "He has brought sufficient force for protecting you against yourenemies, and against the enemies of the Republic. If you are told thatthese forces are destined to violate your liberties, reply, `TheRepublic will not suffer them to be taken from us.'

  "Rally round the Captain-General. He brings you abundance and peace.Rally all of you around him. Whoever shall dare to separate himselffrom the Captain-General will be a traitor to his country; and theindignation of the country will devour him, as the fire devours yourdried canes.

  "Done at Paris," etcetera.

  "This document is signed, you will perceive," said Monsieur Coasson, "bythe First Consul, and by the Secretary of State, Monsieur H.B. Maret."

  Once more it was in vain to explore the countenance of L'Ouverture. Itwas still immovable. He extended his hand for the document, saying thathe would retire with his secretary, for the purpose of preparing hisreplies for the First Consul, in order that no such delays might takeplace on his part, as the date of the letter and proclamation showed tohave intervened on the other side. Meantime, he requested that MonsieurCoasson, and all whom he had brought in his company, would makethemselves at home in his house; and, turning to his wife and family, hecommended his newly arrived guests to their hospitality. With a passingsmile and greeting to his sons, he was about to leave the room withMonsieur Pascal, when Monsieur Coasson intimated that he had one thingmore to say.

  "I am directed, General Toussaint," said he, "in case of your refusal tojoin the French forces immediately, to convey your sons back to theguardianship of the Captain-General Leclerc: and it will be my duty toset out with them at dawn."

  A cry of anguish broke forth from Margot, and Placide was instantly byher side.

  "Fear nothing," said Toussaint to her, in a tone which once more fixedall eyes upon him. His countenance was no longer unmoved. It wasconvulsed, for a moment, with passion. He was calm in his manner,however, as he turned to Monsieur Coasson, and said, "Sir, my sons areat home. It rests with myself and with them, what excursions they makehenceforth."

  He bowed, and left the room with Monsieur Pascal.