“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?”