The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance

by Harriet Martineau

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

  THE HOUR OF PROOF.

  "So the long-expected letter is come at last," observed Monsieur Pascal,as the study-door closed upon himself and his friend.

  "Read it," said Toussaint, putting the letter into the secretary's hand,and walking up and down the room, till his friend spoke again.

  "We hear," said Monsieur Pascal, "that the First Consul understands men.He may understand some men--the soldiery of France, perhaps--but ofothers he knows no more than if he were not himself a man."

  "He no more understands my people than myself. Can it be possible thathe believes that proclamation will be acceptable to them--that mixtureof cajolery and bombast. He has heard that we are ignorant, and heconcludes that we are without understanding. What think you of hispromise of abundance by the hands of Leclerc? As if it were not theircupidity, excited by our abundance, which has brought these thousands ofsoldiers to our shores! They are welcome to it all--to our harvests,our money, and our merchandise--if they would not touch our freedom."

  "Bonaparte has a word to say to that in his letter to you," observed thesecretary. "What can you desire? The freedom of the blacks? You knowthat in all the countries we have been in, we have given it to thepeople who had it not? What say the Venetians to that? What says thePope!"

  "Does he suppose us deaf," replied Toussaint, "that we have not heard ofthe fate of our race in Guadaloupe, and Martinique, and Cayenne? Doeshe suppose us blind, that we do not see the pirates he has commissionedhovering about the shores of Africa, as the vulture preparing to strikehis prey? Ignorant as we are, does he suppose us stupid enough to bedelighted when, free already, we find ourselves surrounded by fifty-fourwar-ships, which come to promise us liberty?"

  "He does not know, apparently, how our commerce with the world brings ustidings of all the world."

  "And if it were not so--if his were the first ships that our eyes hadever seen--does he not know that the richest tidings of liberty come,not through the eye and ear, but from the heart? Does he not know thatthe liberties of Saint Domingo, large as they are, everlasting as theywill prove to be--all sprang from here and here?"--pointing to his headand heart. "This is he," he continued, "who has been king in mythoughts, from the hour when I heard of the artillery officer who hadsaved the Convention! This is he to whom I have felt myself bound as abrother in destiny and in glory! This is he with whom I hoped to sharethe lot of reconciling the quarrel of races and of ages! In the eye ofthe world he may be great, and I the bandit captain of a despised race.On the page of history he may be magnified, and I derided. But I spurnhim for a hero--I reject him for a brother. My rival he may makehimself. His soul is narrow, and his aims are low. He might have beena god to the world, and he is a tyrant. We have followed him withwistful eyes, to see him loosen bonds with a divine touch; and we findhim busy forging new chains. He has sullied his divine commission; andwhile my own remains pure, he is no brother of my soul. You, my friend,knew him better than I, or you would not have left his service formine."

  "Yet I gave him credit for a better appreciation of you, a clearerforesight of the destiny of this colony, than he has shown."

  "While we live, my friend, we must accept disappointment. In my youth,I learned to give up hope after hope; and one of the brightest I mustnow relinquish in my old age."

  "Two brilliant ones have, however, entered your dwelling this evening,my friend," said the secretary.

  "My boys? Are they not?--But these are times to show what they are. Inthe joy of having them back, I might have forgiven and forgotteneverything, but for the claim--You heard, Pascal?"

  "About their leaving you at dawn. Yes; that was amusing."

  "If they will not consider a negro a man, they might have rememberedthat beasts are desperate to recover the young that they have lost.Leclerc will find, however, that this night will make men of my sons. Iwill call them my boys no more; and never more shall this envoy callthem his pupils, or his charge. These French will find that there isthat in this Saint Domingo of ours which quickly ripens young wits, andmakes the harvest ready in a day. Let them beware the reaping; for itis another sort of harvest than they look for.--But come," said he: "itis late; and we have to answer the letter of this foreigner--thisstranger to my race and nature."

  He took some papers from his pocket, sat down beside the friend, andsaid, with the countenance of one who has heard good news, "See here howlittle they comprehend how negroes may be friends! See here the proofsthat they understand my Henri no better than myself."

  And he put into the hands of his secretary those fine letters ofChristophe, which do everlasting honour to his head and heart, and showthat he bore a kingly soul before he adorned the kingly office. AsMonsieur Pascal road the narrative of Leclerc's attempts to alarm, tocajole, and to bribe Christophe to betray his friend's cause, anddeliver up his person, the pale countenance of the secretary became nowpaler with anger and disgust, now flushed with pleasure and admiration.

  "Here is the friend that sticketh closer than a brother," said he.

  "Alas! poor Paul! he will be faithful, Pascal; but he can never againlove me."

  "Pardon me, I entreat you. I meant no allusion."

  "You did not. But everything serves as an allusion there; for Paul isnever out of my mind. Now for our letters;--that to Leclerc modified,as you perceive, by our knowledge of what has passed between him andHenri."

  "Modified, indeed!" exclaimed Pascal.

  Their proceedings were destined to be further modified by the events ofthis night. Tidings as black as the darkest night that ever broodedover the island in the season of storms poured in to overshadow theprospects of the negroes, and the hopes of their chief.

  It was after midnight when, in the midst of their quiet consultation,Toussaint and his secretary thought they heard voices at the gate.Toussaint was going to ascertain, when he was met in the hall by newsthat a messenger from the south-west had arrived. The messengerentered, halting and slow.

  "It is--no," said Pascal; "surely it cannot be--"

  "Is it possible that you are Jacques?" exclaimed Toussaint, his eyesshaded by his hand.

  "I am Dessalines," said the wounded man, who had already sunk upon aseat.

  "Why come yourself, in this state!" cried Toussaint, hastening tosupport him.

  "I could more easily come than write my news," replied Dessalines; "andit is news that I would commit to no man's ear but your own."

  "Shall I go?" asked Monsieur Pascal of Toussaint.

  "No. Stay and hear. Tell us your tidings, Jacques."

  "I am as well here as down in the south-west, or you would not have seenme."

  "You mean that all is lost there?"

  "All is lost there."

  "While the enemy is beguiling us with letters, and talk of truce!"observed Toussaint to Pascal. "Where was your battle, Jacques? How canall the west be lost?"

  "The French have bought La Plume. They told him your cause wasdesperate, and promised him honours and office in France. Get me cured,and let me win a battle for you, and I have no doubt I can buy him backagain. Meantime--"

  "Meantime, what has Domage done? Is he with me or La Plume? And isChaney safe?"

  "Domage never received your instructions. La Plume carried them, and nodoubt, your aide-de-camp also, straight to the French. Chaney has notbeen seen: he is traitor or prisoner."

  "Then Cayes is not burned, nor Jeremie defended?"

  "Neither the one nor the other. Both are lost; and so isPort-au-Prince. My troops and I did our best at the Croix de Bosquets:but what could we do in such a case? I am here, wounded within an inchof my life; and they are in the fastnesses. You were a doctor once,L'Ouverture. Set me up again; and I will gather my men from themountains, and prick these whites all across the peninsula into thesea."

  "I will be doctor, or nurse, or anything, to save you, Jacques."

  "What if I have more bad news? Will you not hate me?"

/>   "Lose no time, my friend. This is no hour for trifling."

  "There is no room for trifling, my friend. I fear--I am not certain--but I fear the east is lost."

  "Is Clerveaux bought too?"

  "Not bought. He is more of your sort than La Plume's. He isincorruptible by money; but he likes the French, and he loves peace. Hewould be a very brother to you, if he only loved liberty better thaneither. As it is, he is thought to have delivered over the whole east,from the Isabella to Cap Samana, without a blow."

  "And my brother!"

  "He has disappeared from the city. He did not yield; but he could donothing by himself, or with only his guard. He disappeared in thenight, and is thought to have put off! by water. You will soon hearfrom him, I doubt not. Now I have told my news, and I am faint. Whereis Therese?"

  "She is here. Look more like yourself, and she shall be called. Youhave told all your news?"

  "All; and I am glad it is out."

  "Keep up your heart, Dessalines! I have you and Henri; and God is withthe faithful.--Now to your bed, my friend."

  Instead of the attendants who were summoned, Therese entered. She spokeno word, but aided by her servant, had her husband carried to hischamber. When the door was closed, sad and serious as were the tidingswhich had now to be acted upon, the secretary could not help askingL'Ouverture if he had ever seen Madame Dessalines look as she did justnow.

  "Yes," he replied, "on certain occasions, some years since.--But hereshe is again."

  Therese came to say that her husband had yet something to relate intoToussaint's own ear before he could sleep; but, on her own part, sheentreated that she might first be permitted to dress his wounds.

  "Send for me when you think fit, and I will come, madame. But, Therese,one word. I am aware that Monsieur Papalier is here. Do not forgetthat you are a Christian, and pledged to forgive injuries."

  "You think you read my thoughts, L'Ouverture; but you do not. Listen,and I am gone. His voice once had power over me through love, and thenthrough hatred. I never miss the lightest word he speaks. I heard himtell his old friends from Cap that I was his slave, and that the timewas coming when masters would claim their own again. Now you know mythoughts."

  And she was gone.

  When Toussaint returned from his visit to Dessalines' chamber, he foundMonsieur Pascal sitting with his face hid in his hands.

  "Meditation is good," said Toussaint, laying his hand on his friend'sshoulder. "Lamentation is unworthy."

  "It is so; and we have much to do," replied the secretary, rousinghimself.

  "Fear not," resumed Toussaint, "but that your bride will bloom in theair of the mountains. We may have to entrench ourselves in the mornes--or, at least, to place there our ladies, and the civil officers of thegovernment; but we ought to thank God for providing those natural homes,so full of health and beauty, for the free in spirit. I have stillthree brigades, and the great body of the cultivators, in reserve; butwe shall all act with stronger hearts if our heart's treasure is safe inthe mornes."

  "Are we to lose Dessalines?" asked Monsieur Pascal.

  "I believe not. He is severely wounded, and, at this moment,exasperated. He vows the death of Monsieur Papalier; and I vow hissafety while he is my guest."

  "Papalier and Madame Dessalines cannot exist in one house."

  "And therefore must this deputation be dismissed early in the morning,if there were no other reasons. Notice must be carried to them withtheir coffee, that I am awaiting them with my replies. Those delivered,negotiation is at an end, and we must act. My foes have struck the blowwhich unties my hands."

  "What has Monsieur Papalier to do with the deputation?"

  "Nothing, but that he uses its protection to attempt to resume hisestates. They are in commission; and he may have them; though not, ashe thinks, with men and women as part of his chattels. No more of him."

  "Of whom next, then? Except Christophe, who is there worthy to be namedby you?" asked Monsieur Pascal, with emotion.

  "Every one who has deserted us, except, perhaps, La Plume. He issordid; and I dismiss him. As for Clerveaux and his thousands, theyhave been weak, but not, perhaps, wicked. They may be recovered. Itake the blame of their weakness upon myself. Would that I alone couldbear the consequences!"

  "You take the blame of their weakness? Is not their former slavery thecause of it? Is there anything in their act but the servility in whichthey were reared?"

  "There is much of that. But I have deepened the taint, in striving toavoid the opposite corruption of revenge. I have the taint myself. Thestain of slavery exists in the First of the Blacks himself. Let allothers, then, be forgiven. They may thus be recovered. I gave them thelesson of loving and trusting the whites. They have done so, to thepoint of being treacherous to me. I must now give them another lesson,and time to learn it; and they may possibly be redeemed."

  "You will hold out in the mornes--conduct your resistance on a pinnacle,where the eyes of the blacks may be raised to you--fixed upon you."

  "Just so;--and where they may flock to me, when time shall have taughtthem my principle and my policy, and revealed the temper and purpose ofour invaders. Now, then, to prepare!"

  Before dawn, the despatches for the French, on the coast and at home,were prepared; and messengers were dismissed, in every direction, withorders by which the troops which remained faithful would beconcentrated, the cultivators raised and collected, stores provided inthe fastnesses, and the new acquisitions of the enemy rendered uselessto them. Never had the heads of these two able men, working in perfectconcert, achieved such a mass of work in a single night.

  A little after sunrise, the French party appeared in the salon, wherealready almost every member of the household was collected; all beingunder the impression that a crisis had arrived, and that memorable wordswere about to be spoken.

  Toussaint acknowledged the apparent discourtesy of appointing the hourfor the departure of his guests; but declared that he had no apology tooffer:--that the time for courteous observance was past, when his guestswere discovered to be sent merely to amuse and disarm him for the hour,while blows were struck at a distance against the liberties of his race.In delivering his despatches, he said, he was delivering his farewell.Within an hour, the deputation and himself must be travelling indifferent directions.

  Monsieur Coasson, on receiving the packets, said that he had no otherdesire than to be on his way. There could be no satisfaction, andlittle safety, in remaining in a house where, under a hypocriticalpretence of magnanimity and good-will, there lurked a spirit of hideousmalice, of diabolical revenge, towards a race to whom nature, and theuniversal consent of men, had given a superiority which they could neverlose.

  In unaffected surprise, Toussaint looked in the face of the envoy,observing that, for himself, he disclaimed all such passion and suchdissimulation as his household was charged with.

  "Of course you do," replied Coasson: "but I require not your testimony.The men of a family may, where there is occasion, conceal its rulingpassion: but, where there is occasion, it will be revealed by thewomen."

  Toussaint's eyes, like every one's else, turned to the ladies of hisfamily. It was not Madame L'Ouverture that was intended, for hercountenance asked of her husband what this could mean. It could not beAimee, who now stood drowned in tears, where she could best conceal hergrief. Genifrede explained. She told calmly, and without the slightestconfusion, that Monsieur Coasson had sought a conversation with her, forthe purpose of winning over her feelings, and her influence with herfather, to the side of the French. He had endeavoured to make heracknowledge that the whole family, with the exception of its head, werein favour of peace, admirers of Bonaparte, and aware that they werelikely to be victims to the ambition of their father. Her reply, inwhich she declared that she gloried, was that the deepest passion of hersoul was hatred of the whites; and that she prayed for theirannihilation.

  "And did you also declare, my daughter
," said Toussaint, "that in thisyou differ from us all? Did you avow that your parents look upon thispassion in you as a disease, for which you have their daily and nightlyprayers?"

  "I did declare, my father, that I alone of the Ouvertures know how tofeel for the wrongs of my race. But Monsieur Coasson did not believeme, and vowed that we should all suffer for the opinions held by mealone."

  "It is true, I did not believe, nor do I now believe," said Coasson,"that the devil would single out one of a family, to corrupt her heartwith such atrocious hatred as that whose avowal chilled the marrow of mybones. It was her countenance of wretchedness that attracted me. I sawthat she was less capable of dissimulation than the rest of you; and soI have found."

  "A wise man truly has the Captain-General chosen for an envoy!" observedToussaint: "a wise and an honourable man! He sees woe in the face of awoman, and makes it his instrument for discovering the secret souls ofher family. Blindly bent upon this object, and having laid open, as hethinks, one heart, he reads the rest by it. But he may, with all hiswisdom, and all this honour, be no less ignorant than before he saw us.So far from reading all our souls, he has not even read the sufferingone that he has tempted. You have opened the sluices of the waters ofbitterness in my child's soul, Monsieur Coasson, but you have not foundthe source."

  "Time will show that," observed the envoy.

  "It will," replied Toussaint; "and also the worth of your threat ofrevenge for the words of my suffering child. I have no more to say toyou.--My sons!"

  Placide sprang to his side, and Isaac followed.

  "I no longer call you boys; for the choice of this hour makes you men.The Captain-General insists that you go from me. He has no right to doso. Neither have I a right to bid you stay. Hear, and decide foryourselves.--The cause of the blacks is not so promising as it appearedlast night. News has arrived, from various quarters, of defeat anddefection. Our struggle for our liberties will be fierce and long. Itwill never be relinquished; and my own conviction is, that the cause ofthe blacks will finally prevail; that Saint Domingo will never morebelong to France. The ruler of France has been a guardian to you--anindulgent guardian. I do not ask you to tight against him."

  The faces of both the young men showed strong and joyful emotion; but itwas not the same emotion in them both.

  "Decide according to your reason and your hearts, my children, whetherto go or stay; remembering the importance of your choice." Putting ahand on the shoulder of each, he said impressively, "Go to theCaptain-General, or remain with me. Whichever you do, I shall alwaysequally love and cherish you."

  Margot looked upon her sons, as if awaiting from them life or death.Aimee's face was still hidden in her handkerchief. She had nothing tolearn of her brother's inclinations.

  Isaac spoke before Placide could open his lips.

  "We knew, father," he said, "that your love and your rare liberality--that liberality which gave us our French education--would not fail now.And this it is that persuades me that this quarrel cannot proceed toextremities--that it will not be necessary for your sons to take anypart, as you propose. When Placide and I think of you--your love ofpeace, your loyalty, and your admiration of Bonaparte; and then, when wethink of Bonaparte--his astonishment at what you have done in thecolony, and the terms in which he always spoke of you to us--when weconsider how you two are fitted to appreciate each other, we cannotbelieve but that the Captain-General and you will soon be acting inharmony, for the good of both races. But for this assurance, we couldhardly have courage to return."

  "Speak for yourself alone, Isaac," said his brother.

  "Well, then: I say for myself, that, but for this certainly, it wouldalmost break my heart to leave you so soon again, though to go atpresent no further off than Tortuga. But I am quite confident thatthere will soon be perfect freedom of intercourse among all who are onthe island."

  "You return with me?" asked Monsieur Coasson.

  "Certainly, as my father gives me my choice. I feel myself bound, inhonour and gratitude, to return, instead of appearing to escape, at thevery first opportunity, from those with whom I can never quarrel.Returning to Leclerc, under his conditional orders, can never beconsidered a declaration against my father: while remaining here,against Leclerc's orders, is an undeniable declaration against Bonaparteand France--a declaration which I never will make."

  "I stay with my father," said Placide.

  "Your reasons?" asked Monsieur Coasson; "that I may report them to theCaptain-General."

  "I have no reasons," replied Placide; "or, if I have, I cannot recollectthem now. I shall stay with my father."

  "Welcome home, my boy!" said Toussaint; "and Isaac, my son, may Godbless you, wherever you go."

  And he opened his arms to them both.

  "I am not afraid," said Madame L'Ouverture, timidly, as if scarcelyventuring to say so much--"I am not afraid but that, happen what may, wecan always make a comfortable home for Placide."

  "Never mind comfort, mother: and least of all for me. We have somethingbetter than comfort to try for now."

  "Give me your blessing, too, father," said Aimee, faintly, as Isaac ledher forward, and Vincent closely followed. "You said you would blessthose that went, and those that stayed; and I am going with Isaac."

  The parents were speechless; so that Isaac could explain that theCaptain-General offered a welcome to as many of the Ouvertures as weredisposed to join him; and that Madame Leclerc had said that his sisterswould find a home and protection with her.

  "And I cannot separate from Isaac yet," pleaded Aimee. "And with MadameLeclerc--"

  "General Vincent," said Toussaint, addressing his aide before noticinghis daughter, "have the goodness to prepare for an immediate journey. Iwill give you your commission when you are ready to ride."

  After one moment's hesitation, Vincent bowed, and withdrew. He was notprepared to desert his General while actually busy in his affairs. Hereflected that the great object (in order to the peace andreconciliation he hoped for) was to serve, and keep on a goodunderstanding with, both parties. He would discharge this commission,and then follow Aimee and her brother, as he had promised. Thus hesettled with himself, while he ordered his horses, and prepared fordeparture.

  Toussaint was sufficiently aware that he should prosper better withouthis shallow-minded and unstable aide; but he meant to retain him abouthis person, on business in his service, till Aimee should haveopportunity, in his absence, to explore her own mind, and determine hercourse, while far from the voice of the tempter.

  "Go with your brother, Aimee," he said, "rather than remain unwillinglywith us. Whenever you wish it, return. You will find our arms everopen to you."

  And he blessed her, as did her weeping mother--the last, however, notwithout a word of reproach.

  "Oh, Aimee, why did not you tell me?"

  "Mother, I did not know myself--I was uncertain--I was--Oh, mother! itwill not be for long. It is but a little way: and Isaac and I shallsoon write. I will tell you everything about Madame Leclerc. Kiss meonce more, mother; and take care of Genifrede."

  As Toussaint abruptly turned away, with a parting bow to the envoy, andentered the piazza, on his way to the urgent business of the day, and asthe shortest escape from the many eyes that were upon him, heencountered Monsieur Pascal, who stood awaiting him there.

  "My friend!" said Monsieur Pascal, with emotion, as he looked in theface of Toussaint.

  "Ay, Pascal: it is bitter. Bonaparte rose up as my rival; andcheerfully did I accept him for such, in the council and in the field.But now he is my rival in my family. He looks defiance at me through mychildren's eyes. It is too much. God give me patience!"

  Monsieur Pascal did not speak; for what could he say?