’Twas a wicked one in the annals of dynasties and despotisms. No earthquake yawned, no thunderbolt came down—yet the deed was not forgotten nor unexpiated. Toussaint was hurried aboard the frigate Hero, shut up from his family, who were also prisoners, and sent from the home and the island he knew and loved so well.
He stands in his manacles on the deck of the ship, and as she slowly parts from the island, he says: “They have in me struck down but the trunk of the tree; the roots are many and deep, they will shoot up again!”[64]
These were his last words! But he might in his destruction have thus recorded his accusation, before the throne of God, and in the face of men:—
1. I charge—That you white man, with no orders from God, stole the black man from Africa and subjected him to labor, to tyranny, and to the lash—for your ends, not for his benefit.
2. I charge—That for centuries you made a beast of him, and when he turned in desperation and rent you, you wondered that he was a beast.
3. I charge—That you have ever denied him all chance for improvement, all chance to be a Man.
4. I charge—That when I, Toussaint Louverture, “with a commission from Heaven,” triumphantly vindicated his manhood and mine, you ruthlessly trampled him and me down again into degradation and ruin.
5. I charge—That the misery, the blood and the “horror” of St. Domingo lie at your door, white man, for you sinned knowingly and willfully.
6. I charge—That you, white man—not God!—are the father and defender of Slavery, that you disgraced your Bible, corrupted your State, and depraved your soul to sustain and continue this great wrong towards me, and to entail unknown misery upon your children and the world.