CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
TRUCE NO MORE.
When Toussaint set foot on the deck of the _Heros_, on the evening ofthe next day, the commander stood ready to receive him--and not only thecommander. Soldiers also stood ready with chains, with which they lostno time in fettering the old man's ankles and wrists. While they weredoing this, Toussaint quietly said to the commander--
"By my overthrow, the trunk of the tree of negro liberty is laid low;only the trunk. It will shoot out again from the roots; and they aremany and deep."
The moment the soldiers stepped back, and allowed access to him, Aimeewas in his arms; and Isaac, in great agitation, presented himself.
"I will never leave you more, father!" said he. "These fetters!Nothing should have made me believe such treatment possible. I trustedLeclerc as firmly as I trusted you. I have been living with him whilehe meditated chains for you. I am humbled for ever! All I can do nowis to devote myself to you, as Placide did at the right time. Would Iwere Placide! I am humbled for ever!"
"No, my son: not for ever. It is a common lot to be humbled for thecredulous confidence of youth. It is a safer and a nobler error, Isaac,than its opposite. It is better than unbelief in the virtue of man."
"You torture me with your goodness, father!"
"I deal with you as with myself, Isaac. In the young days of my freedomI trusted falsely, as you have done. I believed in Bonaparte, as youhave believed in Leclerc. We have both received a lesson; but I do notfeel humbled for ever; nor must you."
"Would I were Placide!" was all that Isaac could say.
"You are so good to Isaac and me," said Aimee, timidly, "that perhapsyou would (could you?) see Vincent."
"No, my child. Vincent is not like Isaac. He cannot be made wise byexperience; and his folly is scarcely to be distinguished fromtreachery. I cannot see General Vincent."
No choice was allowed, however. Vincent rushed forward, knelt beforeToussaint, and clasped his knees, imploring, in a convulsion of grief,pardon for the past, and permission to devote every hour of his futurelife to the family whom he had ruined.
"My pardon you have," said L'Ouverture. "I should rather say mycompassion; for you never deliberately designed treachery, I ampersuaded."
"I never did! I never did!"
"Neither had you any good design. You have been selfish, vain, andpresumptuous; as far from comprehending my purposes as from havingcriminal ones of your own. In the new circumstances in which negroesare placed, many must fall, however firmly some may stand. You areamong the infirm; and therefore, however I may mourn, I do not resentwhat you have done."
"Thank God! You pardon me! Thank God! Henceforth, with Aimee to watchover me--with you to guide me--"
"No, Vincent! You cannot be with me. Aimee is free as she has everbeen; but you cannot be with me. I go to martyrdom: to fulfil whatappears to be the solemn vocation of the Ouvertures. I go to martyrdom;and none but steady souls must travel that way with me."
"You scorn me," said Vincent, springing from his knees. "Your acts showthat you scorn me. You take that poor fellow," pointing to MarsPlaisir, "and you reject me."
"My son's servant," said Toussaint, smiling. "He goes to his belovedFrance, free to quit us for any other service, when ours becomes toograve for his light spirit. I would not insult you by taking you on alike condition. You must leave us, Vincent," pointing to the _Creole's_boat, now about to put off from the _Heros_. "We will pray for you.Farewell!"
"Aimee!" said her lover, scarcely daring to raise his eyes to her face.
"Farewell, Vincent!" Aimee strove to say.
In vain Vincent endeavoured to plead. Aimee shook her head, signed tohim to go, and hid her face on her father's shoulder. It was too much.Humbled to the point of exasperation, Vincent throw himself over theship's side into the boat, and never more saw the face of an Ouverture.
"I have nothing left but you," sobbed Aimee--"but you and my mother. Ifthey kill you my mother will die, and I shall be desolate."
"Your brothers, my child."
"No, no. I have tried all. I left you to try. I loved you always; butI thought I loved others more. But--"
"But," said her father, when she could not proceed, "you found the lotof woman. To woman the affections are all: to men, even to brothers,they are not. Courage, Aimee! Courage! for you are an Ouverture.Courage to meet your woman's martyrdom!"
"Let me rest upon your heart, father; and I can bear anything."
"Would I could, my child! But they will not allow it--these jailors.They will part us."
"I wish these chains could bind me too--these very links--that I mightnever leave you," cried Aimee, kissing the fetters which bound herfather's arms.
"Your mother's heart, Aimee; that remains."
"I will keep it from breaking, father, trust me."
And the mother and daughter tasted something like happiness, even in anhour like this, in their re-union. It was a strange kind of comfort toAimee to hear from her mother how long ago her father had foreseen, atPongaudin, that the day might come when her heart would be torn betweenher lover and her family. The impending blow had been struck--thestruggle had taken place: and it only remained now to endure it.
"Father!" said Genifrede, appealing to Toussaint, with a gravecountenance, "you say that none but brave and steady souls must go withyou on your way to martyrdom. You know me to be cowardly as a slave,and unstable as yonder boat now tossing on the waves. Do you see thatboat, father?"
"Surely--yes; it is Paul;" said Toussaint, looking through his glass."Paul is coming to say farewell."
"Let me return with him, father. Let me become his child. I amunworthy to be yours. And he and I are so forlorn!"
Her father's tender gaze encouraged her to say more. Drawing closer,she whispered--
"I have seen Moyse--I have seen him more than once in the Morne; and Icannot leave this place. Let me stay."
"Stay, my child. Seek consolation in your own way. We will all prayfor you; we will all console your mother for your absence. We shall notmeet again on earth, Genifrede."
"I know it, father. But the time of rest--how long it is in coming!"
"My child, our rest is in the soul--it lies not either in place or time.Do not look for it in the grave, unless you have it first in the soul."
"Then would I had never been born!"
"How different will be your cry when you have been a daughter to Paulfor a while! When you see him consoled, and reposing upon your care,you will say, `I thank God that I have lived for this!' A great dutylies before you, my dear child; and in the heart of duty lies rest--adeeper than that of the grave. Shall I give you a duty to discharge forme?"
"Oh, yes! I will take it as your blessing."
"Convey to Christophe my last message. Bid him rejoice for me that mywork is done. My work is now his. Bid him remember how we alwaysagreed that freedom is safe. I bequeath the charge of it to him, withmy blessing."
"He shall know this, if he lives, before the moon rises."
"If he does not live, let Dessalines hear what was my message toChristophe. He will know how much to take to himself."
It was well that this message was given without further delay.Toussaint was summoned to speak with some officers of Leclerc's council,in the cabin below. At the clank of his chains upon the deck all eyeswere upon him, except those of his own family, which were turned away ingrief.
"Before your departure," said one of the officers, in the small cabin towhich Toussaint was conducted, "we would urge you to do a service to thecolony which yet remains in your power. You must not refuse this lastservice."
"I have never refused to serve the colony; and I am as willing to-day asever."
"No doubt. Reveal to us, then, the spot in the Mornes du Chaos, inwhich your treasures lie buried, and state their amount."
"I have before said that I have buried no treasures. Do you disbelievemy word?"
"We are sorry to do so; but facts are against you. You cannot deceiveus. We know that you caused certain of your dependents to bury treasurenear the Plateaux de la Ravine; and that you afterwards shot theseservants, to secure your secret."
"Is it possible?"
"You see we have penetrated your counsels. The time for concealment ispast. You take your family with you; and none of you will ever return.Your friends are, most of them, disposed of. A new order of things hascommenced. You boast of your patriotism. Show it now by giving up thetreasure of the colony to the uses of the colony."
"I have already devoted my all to the colony. I reply once more that Ileave behind me no treasure but that which you cannot appreciate--thegrateful hearts of my people."
The investigation was pressed--the inquiry made, under every form ofappeal that could be devised; and in vain. Toussaint disdained torepeat his reply; and he spoke no more. The officers left him withthreats on their lips. The door was locked and barred behind them, andToussaint found himself a solitary prisoner.
During the night the vessel got under weigh. What at that hour were thesecrets which lay hid in the mountain-passes, the forest-shades, and thesad homes of the island whose true ruler was now borne away from itsshores?
Pongaudin was already deserted. Monsieur and Madame Pascal had, bygreat activity, obtained a passage for France in the ship which wasfreighted with Leclerc's boastings of his crowning feat. They werealready far on the sea before the _Heros_ spread its sails. Leclerc'sannouncement of Toussaint's overthrow was as follows:--
"I intercepted letters which he had written to one Fontaine, who was his agent at Cap Francais. These afforded an unanswerable proof that he was engaged in a conspiracy, and that he was anxious to regain his former influence in the colony. He waited only for the result of disease among the troops.
"Under these circumstances, it would be improper to give him time to mature his criminal designs. I ordered him to be apprehended--a difficult task; but it succeeded through the excellent arrangements made by General Brunet, who was entrusted with its execution, and the zeal and ardour of Admiral Ferrari.
"I am sending to France, with all his family, this deeply perfidious man, who, by his consummate hypocrisy, has done us so much mischief. The government will determine how it should dispose of him.
"The apprehension of General Toussaint occasions some disturbances. Two leaders of the insurgents are already in custody, and I have ordered them to be shot. About a hundred of his confidential partisans have been secured, of whom some are on board the _Muiron_ frigate, which is under orders for the Mediterranean; and the rest are distributed among the different ships of the squadron.
"I am daily occupied in settling the affairs of the colony, with the least possible inconvenience: but the excessive heat, and the diseases which attack us, render it an extremely painful task. I am impatient for the approach of the month of September, when the season will renovate our activity.
"The departure of Toussaint has produced general joy at Cap Francais.
"The Commissary of Justice, Mont Peson, is dead. The Colonial Prefect, Benezech, is breathing his last. The Adjutant-commandant, Dampier, is dead: he was a young officer of great promise.
"I have the honour, etcetera,--"
Signed--
"Leclerc."
On board the vessel which carried these tidings was Pascal, prepared togive a different version of the late transactions, and revolving, withAfra, the means by which he might best employ such influence as he hadon behalf of his friend. Theirs was a nearly hopeless errand, they wellknew; but the less hopeful, the more anxious were they to do what theycould.
Was Euphrosyne with them?--No. She never forgot the duty which she hadset before her--to stay near Le Bosquet, in hopes of better times, whenshe might make reparation to the people of the estate for what they hadsuffered at her grandfather's hands. A more pressing duty also detainedher on the island. She could be a daughter to Monsieur Raymond inAfra's stead, and thus make their duty easier to the Pascals. Among thelamentations and prayers which went up from the mourning island werethose of the old man and the young girl who wept together at Le Zephyr--scarcely attempting yet to forgive the enemies whose treachery hadoutraged the Deliverer--as he was henceforth called, more fondly thanever. They were not wholly wretched. They dwelt on the surprise andpleasure it would be to the Ouvertures to find the Pascals in Francebefore them. Euphrosyne had also the satisfaction of doing something,however indirectly, for her unfortunate friends; and she really enjoyedthe occupation, to her so familiar, and still so dear, of ministering tothe comfort of an old man, who had no present dependence but on her.
Her cares and duties were soon increased. The habitations of the Plaindu Nord became so disgusting and so dangerous as the pestilence strewedthe land with dead, and the survivors of the French army became, inproportion to the visitation, desperate and savage, that Madame Oge was,at length, like all her neighbours, driven from her home. She wished totake refuge with one of her own colour; and Monsieur Raymond, atEuphrosyne's suggestion, invited her to Le Zephyr, to await better days.With a good grace did Euphrosyne go out to meet her; with a good gracedid she welcome and entertain her. The time was past when she could beterrified with evil prognostications. In the hour of the earthquake, noone heeds the croak of the raven.
Among the nuns at Saint Marc there was trembling, which the pale abbessherself could not subdue by reason or exhortation. Their ears werealready weary with the moans of the dying. They had now to hear theshrieks and curses of the kidnapped blacks--the friends of L'Ouverture--whose homes were made desolate. The terrified women could not but askeach other, "who next?" for they all loved L'Ouverture, and had declaredtheir trust in him. No one injured the household of the abbess,however; and the sisters were all spared, in safety and honour, to hearthe proclamation of the Independence of Hayti, and to enjoy theprotection and friendship of its beloved Empress.
And where was she--Therese--when Saint Marc was resounding with thecries of her husband's betrayed companions and friends? She was on theway to the fastnesses, where her unyielding husband was preparing atremendous retribution for those whom he had never trusted. Sherejoiced, solemnly but mournfully, that he had never yielded. She couldnot wonder that the first words of Dessalines to her, when he met herhorse on the steep, were a command that she would never more intercedefor a Frenchman--never more hold back his strong hand from the workwhich he had now to do. She never did, till that which, in a chief, waswarfare, became, in an emperor, vengeance. Then she resumed her woman'soffice of intercession; and by it won for herself the title of "the GoodEmpress."
The eyes which first caught sight of the receding ship _Heros_, at dawn,were those of Paul L'Ouverture and Genifrede. They had sent messengers,more likely than themselves to reach Christophe and Dessalines, with thelast message of Toussaint; and they were now at leisure to watch, fromthe heights above their hut (their home henceforth), the departure ofall who bore their name. They were left alone, but not altogetherforlorn. They called each other father and daughter; and here theycould freely, and for ever, mourn Moyse.
Christophe received the message. It was not needed to rouse him to takeupon himself, or to share with Dessalines, the office of him who wasgone. The thoughts of his heart were told to none. They wereunspeakable, except by the language of deeds. His deeds proclaimedthem: and after his faithful warfare, during his subsequent mild reign,his acts of liberality, wisdom, and mercy, showed how true was hisunderstanding of the mission of L'Ouverture.
There were many to share his work to-day. Dessalines was the chief: butleaders sprang up wherever soldiers appeared, asking to be led; and thatwas everywhere, from the moment of the report of the abduction ofToussaint. Clerveaux revolted from the French, and visited on them thebitterness of his remorse. Maurepas also repented, and was putting hisrepentance into action when he was seized, tortured, and murdered, withhis family
. Bellair and his wife conducted with new spirit, from thisday, a victorious warfare which was never intermitted, being bequeathedby their barbarous deaths to their exasperated followers.
It was true, as Toussaint knew and felt in his solitary prison on thewaters, that the groans which went up from the heights and hollows, thehomes and the fastnesses of the island, were such as could not but unitein a fearful war-cry; but it was also true, as he had known and feltduring the whole term of his power, that in this war victory could notbe doubtful. He had been made the portal of freedom to his race. Thepassions of men might gather about it, and make a conflict, more or lesstremendous and protracted; but the way which God had opened, and guardedby awakened human hearts, no multitude of rebellious human hands couldclose.
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