Chapter Fourteen.
Spoiling Sport.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the Commissary on seeing Toussaint this morning. Hédouville was amusing himself, before the sun was high, alternately with three or four of his officers, in duetting with a parrot, which had shown its gaudy plumage among the dark foliage of a tamarind-tree in the garden. At every pause in the bird’s chatter, one of the gentlemen chattered in reply; and thus kept up the discord, to the great amusement of the party. Hédouville was just declaring that he had obtained the best answer—the loudest and most hideous—when he heard the swing of a gate, and, turning round, saw Toussaint entering from the barrack-yard.
“The ape!” exclaimed one of the officers, in a whisper.
“Who—who is it?” eagerly asked a naval captain, lately arrived.
“Who should it be but the black chief? No other of his race is fond enough of us to be for ever thrusting himself upon us. He is confoundedly fond of the whites.”
“We only ask him,” said Delon, another officer, “to like us no better than we like him, and leave us to manage our business our own way.”
“Say the word, Commissary,” whispered the first, “and he shall not go hence so easily as he came.”
“I should beg pardon, Commissary,” said Toussaint, as he approached, “for presenting myself thus—for entering by a back-way—if it were not necessary. The crisis requires that we should agree upon our plan of operations, before we are seen in the streets. It is most important that we should appear to act in concert. It is the last chance for the public safety.”
“Crisis!—public safety!—seen in the streets!” exclaimed Hédouville. “I assure you, General, I have no thoughts of going abroad till evening. It will be a scorching day. Is the crisis you speak of that of the heats?”
“No trifling, Commissary! Gentlemen,” said he, turning to the officers, who happened to be laughing, “no levity! The occasion is too serious for mirth or for loss of time. Shall we speak alone, Commissary?”
“By no means,” said Hédouville. “These gentlemen would not for the world miss hearing your news. Has a fresh insurrection been contrived already? or has any Frenchman forgotten himself, and kissed Psyche, or cuffed Agamemnon?”
“A new insurrection has been contrived; and by you. The cultivators are marching over the plain; and in four hours the town will be sacked, if you, Monsieur Hédouville, who have given the provocation, do not withdraw it. You must sign this proclamation. It is the opposite of your own now waiting for jubilation. But you must sign and issue it—and that within this hour. I hear what you say, gentlemen. You say that I have raised the cultivators. I have not. There is not a negro in the plain who does not at this moment believe that I am in the south. I come to put them down; but I will not go out with the sword in one hand, if I do not carry justice in the other.”
“What do you mean about justice, General? What injustice has been done?”
“Here is the draft of your proclamation—”
“How came you by that paper—by the particulars of my intention?” asked Hédouville. “My proclamation is yet locked up in my own desk.”
“Its contents are nevertheless known throughout the colony. When a Commissary, lightly and incidentally (and therefore the more offensively) settles, without understanding them, the most important points of difference between two unreconciled races, the very winds stoop in their flight, to snatch up the tidings, and drop them as they fly. See here! See how you pronounce on the terms of field-service—and here, on the partition of unclaimed estates—and here, on the claims of the emigrants! The blacks must be indeed as stupid as you hold them to be, if they did not spread the alarm that you are about to enslave them again.”
“I protest I never dreamed of such a thing.”
“I believe you. And that you did not so dream, shows that you are blind to the effects of your own measures—that the cultivators of the plain understand your proceedings better than you do yourself. Here is the proclamation which must be issued.”
And he offered a paper, which Hédouville took, but tore in pieces, trampling them under foot, and saying, that he had never before been so insulted in his function.
“That is a childish act,” observed Toussaint, as he looked down upon the fragments of the document. “And a useless one,” he continued; “for my secretary is getting it printed off by this time.”
“Are you going to dare to put my name to a proclamation I have not seen?”
“Certainly not. My name will suffice, if you compel me to dispense with yours. This proclamation grants—”
Hédouville here gave whispered directions to Delon, who hastened towards the house; and to another, who made for the barrack-yard.
“From every quarter,” said Toussaint, “you will have confirmation of the news I brought. I will speak presently of what must be done. This proclamation,” pointing to the torn paper, “grants an amnesty to all engaged in former conflicts of race, and declares that there are no ‘returned emigrants’ in the island—that they are all considered native proprietors—that all now absent shall be welcome again, and shall be protected—that the blacks are free citizens, and will so remain; but that they shall continue for five years to till the estates on which they live, for one-fourth of the produce.”
“I do not see the grounds of your disgust with my proclamation,” said Hédouville. “I think your anger absurd.”
“I have no doubt you do. This proves, with a multitude of other circumstances, that you must go.”
“Admirable! And leave the colony to your government!”
“Just so. If you ask the whites of the island, they will tell you, almost to a man, that I can govern the whites; while events daily show that you cannot rule the blacks. While you have held the title of Commissary, you know that you have ruled only by my permission—sometimes strengthened by my approbation—oftener spared by my forbearance. I am aware that these gentlemen are not of that opinion,” he continued, his voice assuming the mildness which always distinguished it when he spoke of his personal injuries. “They believe that if two or three brigands could be got to seize in his camp the ape with the Madras on his head, all would be well. But they are mistaken. They may play the brigand, and seize me now; but then the town will be burning before night.”
“You should not believe all the saucy things that are told you—you should not care for the impertinence of young soldiers,” said Hédouville, who suspected that his affairs were reality in a critical state, and had now resumed his usual smoothness of manner. He led the way up the alley between the rose-trees, that the torn proclamation might be no longer in sight.
“No doubt,” observed an officer, gravely, “the Commissary will report to the First Consul (if you really persist in sending the Commissary away)—he will doubtless report to the First Consul the prodigious power you hold here, and how great a rival Bonaparte has on this side the water.”
“And how willing a servant,” added Toussaint—“how willing to bear the burden of government for the good of France.”
“Burden!” exclaimed all.
“Yes,” replied Toussaint: “where is there a heavier burden? Do you suppose that men choose their own office in life? If so, should I have chosen such a one as mine? Was the pleasure of Heaven ever more clearly revealed than in my case? Ask the First Consul whether it was possible for me to be other than I am. The revolution of Saint Domingo proceeded without any interference from me—a negro slave. I saw that the dominion of the whites could not last, divided as they were among themselves, and lost in the numbers of their foes. I was glad that I was a black. The time came when I was compelled to act. I associated myself with the Spaniards, who were the allies of my king, and who had extended protection to the loyal troops of my colour. But this protection served no end. The republic proclaimed the general liberty of the blacks. An unerring voice told me that my allegiance was thenceforward due to the republic. The blacks in their new condition wanted a leader. They chose me to lead them—to be the chief predicted by Raynal, as General Laveaux declared. Inspired by this call, I entered into the service of France. The services that I have rendered prove that it was indeed the voice of God that called me. Why do I tell you this?—Because I owe an account of my life to you? No, indeed!—I tell you all this that you may render my account to the First Consul, whom, it appears, I cannot reach by letter. I charge you, by your fidelity to the mother-country, to repeat to Bonaparte what I have said.”
“You could do it more accurately and forcibly yourself,” observed Hédouville. “Let me advise that you go instead of me.”
“You know,” replied Toussaint, “who it was that said that I am the Bonaparte of Saint Domingo, and that the colony could not exist without me. It was your brother functionaries who said it; and never did they say anything more true.”
The naval captain, Meronet, observed that his ship, now in the roads, happened to be that which had conveyed the Commissary; and that it would greatly flatter him, after having brought out Commissary Hédouville, to carry back General Toussaint L’Ouverture.
“Your ship, sir,” replied Toussaint, “will not contain a man like me—a man laden with the destinies of a race.”
“But you speak of the burden of your office,” observed one of the aides. “It must be great; and all men need occasional repose. Suppose you retire to France for an interval of repose?”
“Perhaps I may,” replied Toussaint, “when this shrub,” pointing to the sucker of a logwood tree, “shall be large enough to make a ship to take me there.”
“You could devolve your cares upon your friend Raymond, General, if you do not wish fully to trust the whites. Be persuaded to visit your brother in destiny and glory, as you call Bonaparte.”
“Raymond is my friend, as you say, and a good man; but he is not called to be arbiter of the fate of the colony. See! Here are your messengers, Commissary.”
The officers entered from the barracks, with news that the plain was really in a state of commotion, and that no adequate defences appeared to be provided by the authorities of the town.
“I charge myself with the defence of the town,” said Toussaint. “Your part, Commissary, is to sign the new proclamation instantly; and to prepare to sail for France, with as many persons as desire to accompany you. On your promise to do this, I will guarantee the public peace. In this case, you incur no further dishonour than that of not understanding the temper and the affairs of the blacks. If you refuse to go, I shall arrest you here, and denounce you to the government of France, as the cause of the insurrection which will undoubtedly ensue. You will not choose to incur this infamy. Therefore,” he continued, turning to Captain Meronet, “you will have the goodness to return to your ship, and prepare it for the reception of the Commissary. He will probably join you in the course of this day.”
Again addressing the astonished functionary, he continued, “You shall be protected to the latest possible moment, for the convenience of making your arrangements. When I can protect you no longer, I will cause the alarm gun on the height behind the barracks to be fired. At that signal, you will hasten to the boats, and be gone. Assure yourself of my justice, and render me an equal measure at the court of France. Farewell!”
As he entered Government-house, the officers looked at each other in consternation.
“What is to be done?” asked more than one.
“It is true enough,” said Hédouville, “that neither I nor any one else understand these people. The danger is really pressing Delon.”
“Most pressing, there is no doubt.”
“Then I have done with this mongrel colony; and I am not sorry. At home I shall find means to vindicate my honour.”
“You mean to depart, then, Commissary?”
“When we hear the alarm gun. Not sooner. It is possible that it may be a mere threat.”
“If so, it will be the first mere threat in which this black has been detected.”
“That is true. He usually acts first, and speaks afterwards. Gentlemen, we shall have to go. I must first see about this proclamation, and discover whether anything else can be done. If not, Captain, au revoir!”