Toussaint and Dessalines, after having reflected for a short time on their respective situations, and standing almost alone against the prevailing wish of the people, consented to the terms which had been granted to Christophe as a matter both of experiment and expediency, and thus for the present ended the contest, which for the extent of it may have been justly described as the most cruel and sanguinary in the annals of warfare. By this peace the island of St. Domingo is admitted to be under the sovereignty of France.
The peace being concluded, the cultivators and proprietors returned to their homes, and recommenced their labours in the soil, in the pleasing hope of being permitted to remain in the bosom of their families, enjoying all those comforts of which the horrors of war had so long denied them. The three negro chiefs, Toussaint, Dessalines, and Christophe retired to their respective plantations, after having been assured by Le Clerc, with every mark of sincerity, that their persons and property should be held sacred, and that instructions should be transmitted to them, upon which they were to act in their future military commands. In their retreat, however, it appears that Dessalines and Christophe were far from feeling confident of their own safety; they consequently did not slumber in their retirement; and being greatly apprehensive of the consequences of the experiment into which they had been led, they waited, with no little anxiety, the result of it.
Credulous, and relying on the captain-general’s honour, from the confidence which he had inspired, Toussaint thought of little but the enjoyment of repose in the bosom of his family. At his estate in the vicinity of Gonaives, he took up his abode, surrounded by his faithful wife and endearing children (with the exception of his two sons who had been detained as hostages, and of whose fate no intelligence was ever received), there to indulge in the sweets of domestic life, after the toils and the cares of a protracted civil war, in which he had borne the most conspicuous part, and shared in all its extraordinary vicissitudes and all its heart-rending scenes of death and destruction. But his retirement was invaded—the snare was laid for him by the perfidious Le Clerc, and in the moment of sleep, unconscious and unsuspecting, he was surrounded by some troops sent for the purpose, torn from his bed in the dead of night, torn from his faithful wife and beloved children, and hurried on board a frigate, there to remain until preparations were made for sending him to France. It was useless and unavailing to make any resistance, or to exclaim against such treachery and inhumanity: he submitted to his fate, and left it to his countrymen to avenge his wrongs. He only asked for the protection and security of his family, but they became also the objects of suspicion, and were subsequently hurried on board the same vessel with their father. They were all sent to France, and their tragical end became the subject of general horror and indignation throughout Europe. Le Clerc, to soften the barbarity and atrocity of this act, gave it out that Toussaint was plotting against the French, and was aiming, in conjunction with his other officers, to seize the first unguarded moment in which they might be caught, to break the peace, and to renew the combat with redoubled vigour and determination.
Thus terminated the career of Toussaint. His end will ever blacken the pages of French history, and leave such a stain on the character of its government that no lapse of time can efface. History cannot produce a more base and unjustifiable act of violence; and it is to be hoped, for the sake of humanity, its perpetrators will meet with that just execration which so much perfidy and treachery deserves.
CHAPTER VI.
The period from the seizure of Toussaint to the final expulsion of the French, by Dessalines, in 1803.—State of cultivation.—Commerce declined—and observations on the population.—Its extent.
The dispute between the people of the island and the French had now assumed a different character, for it could no longer be designated a contest between the revolted slaves of a colony and their government, but a civil war, originating in an attempt of oppression on the part of that government, over those inhabitants whom it had thought proper to declare to be, “free and equal before God, and before the republic.” A conflict, I say, emanating from the basest act of duplicity, and from the most unexampled breach of faith and confidence that has been heard of in modern times; a conflict which, in the sequel, proved the destruction of its authors, and the expulsion of the French from all property in St. Domingo. Our minds must be totally divested of all those impressions which the rebellion of the slaves at first created; and we must view the future operations of the contending parties abstractedly, and not as having any connexion with past events.