The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance

by Harriet Martineau

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Many Guests.

For some weeks after the appearance of the fleet upon the coast, nothing took place which could be called war. Toussaint was resolved not to be the aggressor. Prepared at all points, he waited till those whom he still regarded as his fellow-citizens should strike the first blow. He was the more willing to leave an opening for peace till the last, that he heard that ladies were on board—ladies from the court of France, come to enjoy the delights of this tropical paradise. The sister of Bonaparte, Madame Leclerc, the wife of the commander of the expedition, was there. It seemed scarcely conceivable that she and her train of ladies could have come with any expectation of witnessing such a warfare as, ten years before, had shown how much more savage than the beasts of the forest men may be. It was as little conceivable that they could expect the negroes to enter into slavery again at a word, after having enjoyed freedom, and held rule for ten years. There must still be hope of peace; and Toussaint spared no effort to preserve it, till the strangers should declare their intentions by some unequivocal act.

For this object, L’Ouverture appeared gifted with ubiquity. No flying Arab was ever in so many places so nearly at once. Pongaudin, like every other estate which was in friendly hands, was a sort of camp. Here the Commander-in-chief and his officers had their head-quarters; and here he was to be found, at intervals of a few hours. During those intervals, he was inspecting the fortifications of Saint Marc, one of the strongest places of the island, and under the charge of Dessalines; or he was overlooking the bight of Leogane, from behind Port-au-Prince; or he was visiting L’Étoile, made a strong post, and held by Charles Bellair and his wife (for Deesha would not leave her husband);—or he was riding through the mornes to the north, re-animating, with the sight of his beloved countenance, the companies there held in reserve. He was on the heights of the Gros Morne, an admiring spectator, on occasion of that act of Christophe which was the real cause of the delay and indecision of Leclerc and his troops.

The main body of the French army was preparing to land, immediately on its arrival at Cap Français, when Christophe sent his friend and brother officer, Sangos, on board the fleet, to acquaint Leclerc with the absence of the Commander-in-chief of the colony, without whose permission the landing of troops could not be allowed. If a landing by force were attempted, the city would immediately be fired, and the inhabitants withdrawn. General Leclerc could not believe this to be more than an empty threat; but thought it as well to avoid risk, by landing in the night at points where he was not looked for. Accordingly, he sent some of his force on shore at Fort Dauphin, to the east; while he himself, with a body of troops, set foot on the fatal coast which he was never to leave, at Le Limbé, on the western side of the ridge which commanded the town, hoping to drop into the military quarter from the heights, before he was looked for. From these heights, however, he beheld the town one mass of fire. Christophe had withdrawn the inhabitants, including two thousand whites, who were to be held as hostages in the interior; and so orderly and well-planned had been his proceedings, that not the slightest personal injury was sustained by any individual. Of this conflagration, Toussaint had been a witness from the heights of Gros Morne. The horror which it occasioned was for the strangers alone. All the movable property of the citizens was safe in the interior: and they were all safe in person. The dismay was for the French, when they found only a burning soil, tumbling roofs, and tottering walls, where they had expected repose and feasting after the ennui of a voyage across the Atlantic. For the court ladies, there existed at present only the alternative of remaining on board the ships, of which they were heartily weary, and establishing themselves on the barren island of Tortuga, the home of the buccaneers of former days. They shortly after took possession of Tortuga, which they found to be a tropical region indeed, but no paradise. It was not the best season for turtle; and there was no other of the luxuries whose savour had reached the nostrils of the court of France.

Among the two thousand whites removed from Cap were, of course, the ladies of the convent. They were safely established under shelter of the fortifications of Saint Marc, with all their little comforts about them, and their mocking-bird as tuneful as when hanging in its own orange-tree. Euphrosyne was not with them—nor yet with her guardian. Monsieur Critois had enough to do to protect himself and his lady; and he earnestly desired his ward to be thankful that she had friends among the ruling powers. Euphrosyne needed no commands on this head. She joined Madame Pascal, and was now with her and the secretary in the half-camp, half-household of Pongaudin.

Besides the family and establishment of the Commander-in-chief, as many of the white gentry of Cap were accommodated as the country palace of Pongaudin would contain. It seemed doubtful how long they would have to find amusement for themselves there; for the invaders seemed to have fallen asleep. A month had passed since the burning of Cap, and not another step had been taken. Expectation had begun to be weary. The feverish watching for news had begun to relax; the ladies no longer shuddered at the bare idea of walking in the shrubberies; and some of the younger damsels had begun to heed warnings from L’Ouverture himself not to go out of bounds—by no means to pass the line of sentinels in any direction. Instead of everything French being spoken of with a faltering voice, any one was now welcome who might be able to tell, even at second or third hand, that Madame Leclerc had been seen, and what she wore, and how she looked, and what she had said, either about the colony or anything else. The officers, both civil and military, found themselves able to devote their powers of entertainment more and move to the ladies; and the liability to be called off in the midst of the game of chess, the poem, the song, or the dance, seemed only to make their attentions more precious, because more precarious, than those of the guests who knew themselves to be hostages, and who had abundance of time for gallantry, if only they had had spirits and inclination. Most of the party certainly found the present position of affairs very dull. The exceptions were few. They were poor Génifrède, whose mind was wholly in the past, and before whose eyes the present went forward as a dim dream; her mother and sister, whose faculties were continually on the stretch to keep up, under such circumstances, the hospitalities for which they were pledged to so large a household; the secretary and his bride, who were engrossed at once with the crisis in public affairs and in their own; and Euphrosyne, who could find nothing dull after the convent, and who unconsciously wished that, if this were invasion and war, they might last a good while yet.

One evening, the 8th of February, was somewhat remarkable for L’Ouverture being not only at home, but at leisure. He was playing billiards with his officers and guests. It followed of course that General Vincent was also present. It followed of course; for whether it was that Toussaint felt the peculiar interest in him which report made observers look for towards an intended son-in-law, or whether the chief distrusted him on account of his fondness for Paris and the First Consul, Vincent was for ever kept under the eye, and by the side of his General. Aimée was wont to sigh when she heard her father’s horse ordered; for she know that Vincent was going too; and she now rejoiced to see her father at the billiard-table; for it told her that Vincent was her own for the evening.

Vincent was not slow in putting in his claim. At the first moment, when they were unobserved, he drew her to the window, where the evening breeze blew in, fragrant and cool; then into the piazza; then across the lawn; then down to the gate which opened upon the beach. He would have gone further; but there Aimée stopped, reminding him of the general order against breaking bounds.