Toussaint L’ouverture, the present Commandant of St. Domingo, is one of those characters, which contentions for power and the extention of territory, as well as the jars of individual interest have not infrequently introduced to astonish the World.
Born a Slave, in which capacity he continued till the revolution, it is hostile to received opinions to consider him in any other light than as a fortunate Brigand; but chance has directed that the present writer should be constrained to acknowledge—he is worthy of imitation as a man—he excites admiration as a governor—and as a general, he is yet unsubdued without the probability of subjection! His regard for the unfortunate appears the love of human kind; and, dreaded by different nations, he is the foe of none.—To the English he is by no means inimical, and, in possession of many of the blessings of humanity, he courts the acceptance of the world.
He is a perfect black, at present about fifty-five years of age—of a venerable appearance, but possessed of uncommon discernment. Of great suavity of manners, he was not at all concerned in the perpetration of the massacres, or in the conflagration.
He is stiled the General en Chef, and is always attended by four Aids-de-Camp. He wears as a uniform, a kind of blue spencer, with a large red cape falling over his shoulders, and red cuffs, with eight rows of lace on his arms, and a pair of large gold epaulettes thrown back on his shoulders; a scarlet waistcoat, pantaloons and half-boots; a round hat with a red feather and national cockade; and an extreme large sword is suspended from his side. He receives a voluntary respect from every description of his countrymen, which is more than returned by the affability of his behaviour, and the goodness of his heart. Of his civilities to myself, I have sufficient reason to be proud.
I met him frequently, during my stay in his dominions, and had no occasion of complaint, even from human errors.
After the vessel in which I arrived had undergone a thorough repair, at the Cape, we cleared out of the harbour, and I once more set sail, flushed with hopes of a speedy arrival at St. Thomas’s; but—
—“Heav’n from all creatures hides the book of fate.”
On the third day after we left the Cape, our unfortunate vessel sprung a leak, and we were obliged to put into Fort Dauphine, now called Fort Egalite, about forty miles from the Cape.
In this situation, the master of the vessel, as well as myself, apprehended no danger or impropriety in our going on shore; and, hoisting Danish colours, we came to anchor under a small fort. I unthinkingly landed with the master, and in less than half an hour was arrested by four Blacks, and a Mulatto Officer of great ferocity. They returned with me instantly on board, and placed two centinels over me. I was informed that suspicions had arisen of my being a spy, and that my trial would be prompt and decisive. On the morrow I was to be tried and condemned.
Under these apprehensions I was to pass the night, and to prepare for my appearance before certainly the blackest! tribunal that ever sat in judgment. I, however, confined my reflections to the best means of destroying my baggage, including my military appointments; which I happily effected by putting trunks and all out of the cabin window in the dead of the night, with a weight attached sufficient to sink them.